
Rnnk U ^O 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSnv 



THE SINGING HEART 



THE SINGING HEART 



BY 
ISAAC BASSETT CHOATE 



BOSTON 
R. H. HINKLEY COMPANY 

1912 



COPYRIGHT, I912, BY 
ISAAC BASSETT CHOATE 



THH-PLIMPTON-PRHSS 

[ W • D • O] 
NORWOOD'MASS-U«S«A 



■V" 



-■ r» o /^ 1 



To her who went with me life's journey long, 
Cheered all life's rugged road with courage strong, 

I dedicate in tenderest memory 
This wreath fresh-woven of a full heart's song. 



CONTENTS 



PAGE 

Overture 2 

The Singing Heart 3 

Invocation 4 

Birth of Song 5 

Carol of the Heart 6 

A Thought 7 

Good Cheer 8 

Flower of Song 9 

Heart's Content 10 

Idle Songs 11 

Unmentioned Deeds.... 12 

From Age to Age 13 

Why Sing? 14 

The Stricken Heart 15 

Where Song Begins 16 

Where Song Ends 17 

Songs of the Heart ... 18 

Source of Song 19 

Stout Heart 20 

Life's Litanies 21 

With Happy Heart 22 

Stream of Song 23 

Time and Place 24 

The Dorian Strain 25 

Happy-Hearted 26 

Mission of Song 27 

Heart-Husbandry 28 

I 



page 

The Heart's Harvest... 29 

Life's Rain-Song 30 

To MY Happy Heart .... 31 

Song of the Human 32 

Life's Weaving 33 

The Heart's Fidelity ... 34 

The Song-Sailor 35 

Child of Nature 36 

Song Variations 37 

Taking Leave 38 

Song — Essential 39 

Youth and Age 40 

The Poet's Call 41 

A Little Song 42 

So Would I Sing 43 

Gain of Song 44 

The Common Bond 45 

Song's Appeal 46 

Minstrelsy 47 

Fragments of Song 48 

Suggestion 49 

Winged Song 50 

Farewell to Care 51 

Songs of Life 52 

Between Dawn and Night 53 

Evensong of Praise 54 

Repeated Song 55 

vii] 



PAGE 

The Heart's Sovereign . $6 

Song Survival 57 

For All 58 

Song of Songs 59 

Sea Shells 60 

Life-Song 61 

For Interpreting 62 

Songs Unsung 63 

Of the Spirit 64 

Weft of Song 65 

Why Sad? 66 

For Remembrance 67 

In Wider Sphere 68 

Song and the Voice 69 

Idle Thoughts 70 

Apollo's Lyre 71 

Return of Orpheus 72 

In Dreamland 73 

Magic of Song 74 

From Year to Year 75 

Harmonies 76 

Boyhood 77 

Only Two 78 

To THE Singer 79 

Heart of Youth 80 

The Last Song 81 

At Hostelry of Thought 82 

Heritage of Song 83 

The Unheard Choir 84 

In Harmony 85 

Singing of the Soul ... 86 

Love and Faith 87 

In Poverty 88 

Time's Anthology 89 

The Finer Sense 90 

Themes of Song 91 

[ 



page 

Soul of Silence 92 

So Long 93 

Heart of Gladness 94 

Age of Song 95 

The Happy Heart 96 

Song and Echo 97 

Footfalls of Thought . . 98 
Day Comes with Song ... 99 

Silence 100 

Absent-hearted loi 

Hospitality of the Heart 102 

Pictured Song 103 

The Singer 104 

Singer and Hearer 105 

Power of Song 106 

Singing and Toiling 107 

Sadness of Song 108 

Silence of the Soul . . . 109 

Sing On! no 

In Simple Phrase in 

Ministry of Song 112 

Dear Heart 113 

Songs 114 

Twin Sisters 115 

Wings of Song 

Song of Linus 117 

Lesbian Song 118 

Heart Hunger 119 

Sing Care Away 120 

Abode of Song 121 

Heart's Coinage 122 

A Song 123 

From the Heights 124 

Land of Song 125 

Heard Silences 126 

A Little Song 127 

viii] 



PAGE 

Heart of Song 128 

Mystery 129 

Heart Silence 130 

Plainsong 131 

Excellence of Song ... 132 

Love's World 133 

Twilight Song 134 

Thought and Feeling . . 13s 

Old Songs 136 

Heart of Humanity 137 

Silence and Song 138 

Song of Sorrow 139 

The Lost Song 140 

In Memory 141 

Song of Love 142 



page 

Nature's Voices 143 

The Singer's Task 144 

Shadows 145 

Songs and Singer 146 

All Ends in Song 147 

After the Song 148 

The Lyre Unstrung 149 

At the End 150 

The Last Good-bye .... 151 

Apology 152 

For Sorry Heart 153 

Have thou Good-Night . 154 

The Last Good-Night . . 155 

Fmis 156 



IX 



THE SINGING HEART 



OVERTURE 

(jrO, Heart of Truth, go, Heart of Love, 

Into a waiting world of beauty. 
Where steadfast Truth may cder prove 

Herself best comrade is of Duty; 
And may she come along with me, 

Rich blessing of her guidance bringing. 
That notes of her sincerity 

Be heard through my faint numbers ringing. 

Heart of Truth, Heart of Love, 

So constant through long course of ages! — 
Lovers praise, all other praise above. 

Shows fair upon the Muses'' pages ; — 
May both your gracious presence lend 

Through what is left as Lifers to-morrow, 
Keep with my own heart to the end. 

Join in its songs of joy and sorrow! 



THE SINGING HEART 



I 



F only it were given us to know 
That little world for which the singing bird 
Makes melody, and it were ordered so 

That we could understand the notes we heard, 
Then might we comprehend 
To what remoter end 
Was given to us the unity of music and of word. 

The little ones beneath the mother's wing 

By linnet's song are softly soothed to rest, 
A world is hushed to hear the linnet sing 
Besides the fledglings slumbering in the nest 
And some one stops to hear 
That song of happy cheer. 
To find his heart relieved of care by which it 
was oppressed. 

If song of happy bird so soft and low, — 

A song that's careless of directing art — 
Has that sweet grace of sympathy to go 
So far from blameless life of bird apart, 
Here may it dwell with me 
In perfect harmony 
With strains of soft delight that well up from 
the singing heart. 



[3 



INVOCATION 



G 



O, Heart, when wakes at morning bright 
The World to conscious being! 
Go, Heart, and share the World's delight 

To watch the shadows fleeing ! 
Behold with rapture-flooded eyes 
The sun in gorgeous splendor rise 
Into full glory of the skies! — 
Dear Heart, be glad with seeing. 
With Nature's heart agreeing! 

Go, Heart, when thrushes call elate. 

At royal Day's appearing! 
Go, Heart, when veery sings his mate 

In simple notes endearing ! — 
List how the woods around us ring 
With songs these happy minstrels sing, 
What joy do beams of morning bring ! — 

Dear Heart, be glad with hearing 

What Nature's heart is cheering! 



4] 



BIRTH OF SONG 



W. 



HEN heavenly planets by the Primal Force 

At first were ordered into empty space, 
They entered gladly on the appointed course 

Their orbits' pathway evermore to trace; 

And as each took its place 
To mark the passing of unreckoned years, 

The change of seasons as these come and go, 
The time when Summer in her pride appears 

And Winter regal in his robes of snow, 

They fixed the numbers so 

That Nature keeps her course with rhythmic 
flow. 

There were so many of that heavenly host ! — 

Enough of them to fill infinity, — 
And yet as each went singing to his post 

Their several voices did so well agree 

There was full harmony 
That should remain unbroken through all time, 

Through all the movements of that countless 
throng. 
Repeat the mellow cadences of rhyme 

And blend the feebler measures with the strong 

So these might keep along 

Together in rich melody of song. 

[si 



CAROL OF THE HEART 

/\B0VE the din of crowded street, 

Loud roar of traffic through the day, 

Above the sound of hurrying feet, 

Of rumbling wheels along the way. 

Above the chatter of the gay 

And idle throng, — of gossips old 

That sit and shiver in the cold, — 

Of bargainers in busy mart; 
Above them all a song is heard, 
A song without one spoken word. 
The song that's singing in the heart. 

It may be that a childish voice 

In merry tone is singing there. 
It may be that our souls rejoice 
To see a face that's young and fair, 
As yet unmarked by any care 
Such as do older looks reveal 
And such as our own spirits feel 

When we are overborne in part, 
And only keep our feelings young 
By listening to the music sung, 
A low sweet carol of the heart. 



6] 



A THOUGHT 



O: 



'NLY one single thought, 
One happy thought 
Out of the stores of memory brought, 
A thought so precious of itself that all the rest 
were nought; 

Of one dear soul alone 
That left alone 

The shadowy, far-off unknown. 
And in its flight across this life joined sweetly 
with my own. 

A soul that on its way. 
Its quiet way, 

Was calm as is the summer's day, 
Content to take the upw^ard road or in the vale 
to stay. 

And now within the gate. 
The pearly gate 
That closes on all soon or late, 
I think that soul with blessed thought of me is 
fain to wait. 



[7 



GOOD CHEER 

X HE songs that in the fields and woods we hear 

Ringing a tuneful melody so clear 
Through all the long, long year, 
Are full of hearty cheer. 

There is no note of sadness when for me 
The song-sparrow, hid in the hedgerow tree, 

Rehearses merrily 

Her simple melody. 

The robin keeps on singing in the rain, 
Nor does he of the chilliness complain; 

He tells us in his strain 

The sun will come again. 

So in the song of chickadee are told 

The peace and comfort of December's cold; 

The frost-bands cannot hold 

A spirit half so bold. 

To heart that is to heart of Nature near. 
Of him who is accustomed to revere, 

Do Nature's songs appear 

O'erflowing with good cheer. 



FLOWER OF SONG 

A HE fairest flowers of Nature's gentle brood 

Ask not for any care of gardener's hand, 
But in the friendly sheltering of the wood, 

Chance-sown and overlooked, they shyly stand 
And look out on the world some April day, 

A world just waking from a slumbering long, 
These find all things about them glad as they 

To hearken to the blackbirds' April song. 
Pure as their winter coverlet has been 

Pale delicate anemones 

Swing in the breeze 
Beneath the snow-white birches budded green. 

Song needs as little of the singer's art 

As need anemones the gardener's care. 
Such songs as bourgeon from the singer's heart 

Themselves are typical of beauty there; 
The solitary spinner at her wheel 

Sings to herself a measure sung of yore, 
The tender cadences of voice reveal 

Some part of life that will be lived no more; 
But such the magic power of simple truth 

That let the spinner's song be heard 

In note or word 
It wakes responsive chord in age or youth. 

[9] 



HEART'S CONTENT 



M: 



EN push their shallops off the shore 
And spread their sails new kingdoms to dis- 
cover; 
Much having, but yet wanting more, 
Not realizing that Desire, 

When it has led their quest all oceans over, 
Would scorn the world's empire; — 
Would come at last to care 
So little these adventurous paths to dare; 
Vain efforts having spent, 

Make sheltering port at last, with resting-place 
content. 

The final blessing of our lives 

Being content, his fortune is the greatest 
Who soonest at that goal arrives; — 
'Tis not so much from adverse gales 

Another comes into the harbor latest 
As how he trims his sails; — 
Who seeks a land remote 
Must count on being for long time afloat, 

But who will be content 

At home shall stay and have his blessing promptly 
sent. 



10] 



IDLE SONGS 

Jl he idle singer of an idle song 
Goes musingly along 
Where centuries before 
Went singing so the idle troubadour. 

As fledgling swallows leave their native nest 

Songs flutter from his breast, 

Take their adventurous flight 
Careless of praise, — careless as well of slight; 

But he, the singer, hopes his song may meet 
Some heart that's warm to greet 
The wanderer, bid it come 

Beneath the shelter of a loving home; 

There entertain with cheerful fire and rest 

The stranger as a guest, 

And, asking for its name. 
Learn from whose heart the simple music came. 

So shall the idle songs that now wq hear 

Sing on from year to year. 

And from the joy they give 
The memory of the singing heart shall live. 



II] 



UNMENTIONED DEEDS 



Wi 



HO on the page of History reads 

Of victories by Valor won, 
Should call to mind unmentioned deeds 

Of kindness that the World has done; 
These have no record cut in stone, 

No blazonry of shining gold. 
To classic art have not been known. 

Nor yet with eloquence been told. 

These unrecorded acts of men 

To help their fellow-men along. 
Well worthy of the poet's pen. 

Well worthy of the praise of song; — 
Let these small actions be the theme 

Of which my Muse would sing to-day, 
And may these simple numbers seem 

A slender tribute I would pay. 

The World forgets, or never learns 

What ministries the poor man bless, 
How ready is the heart to turn 

To other hearts when in distress; 
What comfort in a soothing tone 

Heard in a season of despair! 
A sentiment of pity shown 

At once makes all our living fair. 

[12] 



FROM AGE TO AGE 

p ACE to face the reader stands 
With the author in his hands, 
On that open page appears 
Smile of Joy and Sorrow's tears. 

As a far mirage it seems 
Or dim vision of his dreams, 
Somewhat like that image given 
By still waters unto heaven. 

Looking on that silent word, 
Language of mute lips is heard; 
Now the page grows eloquent 
Of the master thought was meant; 

Of high purpose bold and strong 
Right to shield, to banish wrong; 

Of a heart was warm and kind. 

Of an ever-living mind. 

Thus it is we come to know 

Him who wrote so long ago 

Better than the friends are near. 
Living words of whom we hear. 

[13] 



WHY SING? 



W, 



HY sing? — Go ask the sparrow's mate 

Who singeth all day long, 
Who hath no means to celebrate 

His happiness but song; 
He sings for only one to hear 

The music of his voice, 
Yet there are scores of others near 

That in his song rejoice. 

That gift of sweetness is from Heaven, — 

Gift of surpassing worth — 
And as it was in measure given 

It is again poured forth. 
The sparrow is the harp — no more — 

On which a Hand is laid, 
As by the reed on river shore 

A melody is made. 

The sparrow sings unconsciously 

From impulse of the heart, 
But yet his singing brings to me 

Of mine the better part; 
So to my lips the song will spring 

Unbidden and unsought; — 
Who asks of me wherefore I sing 

Would better ask, Why not? 

[14] 



THE STRICKEN HEART 
>ONG is not of the voice alone, 



Nor is it wholly for the ear, 
It lives not in the word or tone, 

Not in the melody we hear; 
What leaves the lips with liquid flow 

Is of the song the minor part, 
What those who listen cannot know 

Abides within the singing heart. 

The water running from the hill 

Gives music only when it falls, 
The ledges all around are still 

And silent save when echo calls; 
It takes the hammer-stroke to bring 

The music from the anvil's breast, 
So closely do sweet concords cling 

To native sources while at rest. 

The tempered steel has richer tone 

Than iron mass as yet unwrought, 
The soul that has keen sorrow known 

Lives in a purer air of thought; 
So is it that the stricken heart 

Yields what is rhythmically fair, 
Yet all its song is but a part 

Of that sweet music harbored there. 

[15] 



WHERE SONG BEGINS 



H 



OW shall one find the origin of song, 
How trace it to what puts the air in motion, 
Detect the pulse that sends the note along 
And feel it throbbing with intense devotion? 

Can we divine the pleasure 

That gives its rhythmic measure 
To song of wood thrush musically falling? 

Or can we know what feeling 

Is voice of bird revealing 
When to its near-by mate 'tis softly calling? 

We feel while listening to thrush's note 

Our souls upborne on wings of adoration, 
May it not be the wood thrush tunes its throat 
To some remote, diviner inspiration? 

It may be there is ringing 

In thrush's vesper singing 
Some joy our thought has not yet overtaken, 

A harmony of numbers 

That soothes her young to slumbers 
Yet comes to us with power our souls to waken. 



[i6 



WHERE SONG ENDS 



I 



N stillness of a summer afternoon 
When hushed is all of Nature's happy chorus, 
The dozing bird forgets her gentle croon, 

But yet the pines repeat their music o'er us; 
There are no breezes blowing, 
No waving pine boughs showing 
That anything in nature sympathizes; 
We know the whispered sweetness 
Is in the full completeness 
Of harmony composed of lost surprises. 

It may be in the song w^e try to sing, 

It may be in the song of thrush or linnet, 
That round a thought of summer there will cling 
A mystery of the pine tops living in it; 

In memory unfading 

The realm of song invading, 
That whispered monotone can perish never; 

If there be aught immortal 

Outside of Heaven's portal 
It is the note that's least regarded ever. 



[17 



SONGS OF THE HEART 



I 



T lingers long 
Among remembered things of old, 
In the sweet melody of song, 

The sweetness of what never yet was told. 

Within the heart 

That still the sacred past doth hold, 
Remains to-day the better part 

Of what was treasured as a prize of old. 

Dear memories 

Still waken with the pulsing strings; 
And all their music's burden is 

The beauty and the joy that Memory brings. 

Love dwells apart. 

The common things of life above; 
Above the wishes of the heart. 

Within the quiet hermitage of Love; 

And there Love stays 

With patient feet and folded wings. 
Giving to Constancy all praise. 

And making songs the heart forever sings. 



i8 



SOURCE OF SONG 

OING thou to me, shy little bird 

Close hiding in the hedgerow near, 
The sweetest song was ever heard 

To fall upon the enchanted ear! 
Sing thou to me that I may know 

The secret mystery of thine art, 
May have this one truth proven so, 

The source of song is from the heart! 

Sing thou to me thy simple strain 

Of goodwill and of hearty cheer. 
That song sung o'er and o'er again 

For one that loves thy voice to hear! 
Sing thou to me, and so will I 

Drink draughts of woodland music sweet, 
And on a slender reed will try 

Those Hquid numbers to repeat! 

Sing thou to me, that I may hear 

What charms the spirit of the wood, 
Makes for itself a little sphere 

Of melody in solitude! 
And I will haunt this magic ring, 

Will listen to thy music long 
To hear the inspired minstrel sing 

That from the heart is source of song. 

[19] 



STOUT HEART 



"S' 



•TOUT heart to brae that's steep," 
The old Scotch proverb says, 
Stout heart must worn wayfarer keep 
On dry and dusty ways. 
When do long summer days 
Wear out the weary feet. 
When, pitiless, the burning heat 
On Nature silence lays. 

Stout heart to northern blast. 
To wintry winds that blow, 

When skies above are overcast 
And fields are white below 
With blanketing of snow; — 

When kedge and cable fail, 

Ships run to sea before the gale; — 
Hearts are not frightened so. 

Stout heart to breast the hills. 

To face the tempest's rage, 
With fortitude to bear life's ills, 

Infirmities of age; 

A vigorous war to wage 
Against embattled wrong, 
And in the worthy cause of Song 

Most loyally engage. 

[20] 



LIFE'S LITANIES 

/Across the dark pine- wooded hills 
Between me and the belfry tower, 
Across the meadows and their rills 
I used to hear at service hour 
On quiet Sabbath days 
The call to prayer and praise, — 
A pulsing of the air that thrills 
The soul with magic power. 

I have not heard that swelling peal 

Ring out above the meads and meres 
Since Fate has led, for woe or weal, 
Far from my home of early years; 
But still on silent ways 
Of quiet Sabbath days 
The memory of that bell will steal 
To the fountain-head of tears. 

I hear it sounding soft and low 

With murmuring of the pine-wood trees. 
That distant Sabbath bell as though 
It were in harmony with these; — 
Those overtones still chime 
As measured words in rhyme, 
And, blending in the memory so, 
Repeat life's litanies. 

[21] 



WITH HAPPY HEART 



O 



SONG that with a happy heart, 

That with a sweet, a winsome voice. 
Comes down the street and through the mart 

To bid a weary world rejoice! — 
O Song with gladness in your eye, 

And on your lip the word of truth, 
We watch your phantom form go by 

As vision of immortal Youth! — 
We wonder at your happy heart, 

Are charmed by that enchanting voice. 

O Song that wanders down the lane 

With light of morning, pilgrim-wise. 
That chimes in with the happy strain 

Of larks that from the meadow rise ! — 
O Song with beauty in your soul, 

Deep tenderness within your heart, 
We listen till we hear the whole 

Of what our song is but a part, 
And find this strolling down the lane 

Is but a sauntering pilgrim-wise. 



22 



STREAM OF SONG 

17 ROM brimming fountain fed by winter snows 
Through summer drought when pansies wilt 

and wither, 
Fresh mountain streamlet through the meadow 
goes 
Its winding way as if not caring whither, 
And in its course it brings 
From depth of rocky springs 
Refreshing coolness to the drooping flowers; 
Beneath deep slumberous shade 
By leaning alders made 
It dreams away long drowsy noontide hours. 

From off the highest pinnacles of thought 

Comes trickling down a stream of vagrant 
fancies, 
Into our life a freshening is brought 

As mountain coolness comes to fainting pansies; 
There do they bide a while. 
Our wandering thoughts beguile. 
In eddying currents for long time they linger; 
In choral movement so 
Will they to rhythm flow 
And cheer the heavy heart with song of singer. 

[23I 



TIME AND PLACE 



W] 



HEN do the angels come to me? 
Whenever I see 
Lilies unfolding in purity; 

When in the fair face 

Of a child, its innocent thought I trace; 
Or its hand I feel 
Into my own hand trustingly steal; 

For well do I know 

That only an angel would love me so. 

Where do I with the angels meet? 

Where violets sweet 

Look up from the grasses about my feet; 

Where, walking alone, 

The song of the wild bird becomes my own; 
Or on crowded street 
Do the kindly voices of comrades greet; 

And these must all be 

Of angels a goodly company. 



[24] 



THE DORIAN STRAIN 



W^ 



HAT lip shall breathe again 
To Dorian pipe the simple Dorian strain 

That taught wild echoes of the wooded dell 

What speech must fail to tell, 
And what must Art alone strive for in vain? 

What singer will essay 

To give to melody thoughts of to-day, 

Thoughts of the market, of the quoted price 

Of watered stocks — of ice? 
Whereto frown Muses with emphatic "Nay." 

The world has lost all zest 

For that which to its youth appeared the best; 

To-day to antiquated page belong 

The happiest strains of song 
That to Apollo ever were addressed. 

When will the Fates once more 

Bring back the healthier appetite of yore, 

Give to mankind the relish of its youth 

For just the simple truth, 
To life the rhythm of the years restore? 



25 



HAPPY-HEARTED 



A: 



S the lark upon the wing, 
As the robin on the tree, 
All the happy-hearted sing 
Songs of simple melody 
Just as sweet as these may be. 

As the song of early prime 
Greets the glad incoming day 

So the song of evening time 
Tells that hearts are light and gay, 
Nowise weary of the way. 

In the measure of the song 
We can trace the happy mood 

Ruling all the summer long 
In the orchard, in the wood. 
Sung for mate and sung for brood. 

So the happy-hearted sing 
To my faithful memory 

As the lark upon the wing, 
As the robin on the tree 
Sang all summer long to me. 



26 



MISSION OF SONG 

I yFT poets in fair words express 
The pictured beauty of their dreams, 

And let sweet notes of music dress 
Those forms in color that beseems; 
Then shall the ear, 
Enchanted, hear 
What beauty and what grace it brings, 
The voice of minstrel bard who sings 

The praise of that pure loveliness 
Revealed to him in passing gleams. 

Let poets sing of sword and shield 
With words of praise as they can find, 

Rehearse brave deeds on battle-field, 
Proclaim proud triumphs of the mind;- 
We listen yet 
Cannot forget 
Some sunny thought in song may bless 
Poor aching hearts with happiness; 

The poet's art its best will yield 
When it is practised for mankind. 



[27] 



HEART-HUSBANDRY 



O 



UR hearts are stored with memories 
Kept sacred through so many years, 

With tender thoughts that rest with these, 
Too fond for words, too deep for tears; 

Their preciousness is many fold 

What wealth of silver and of gold 

Did miser's coffers ever hold. 

These choicest treasures of the heart 

Are from its keeping never lost; 
With them will owner never part. 

They're garnered at too great a cost; — 
They're thoughts of those were very dear, 
Unto our hearts were very near, 
And now — and now — but memory here. 

Life brings no harvest from its toil 
More heavy than its yield of grief, 

Affection is a fruitful soil 

That bears of sorrows many a sheaf; — 

This reaping of heart-husbandry 

Our sole viaticum shall be 

While faring to Eternity. 



28 



THE HEART'S HARVEST 

1 HE heart, — what harvest does it yield 

Of simple joys from year to year? 
Its sunward-looking slopes a field 

Of untold fruitfulness appear; — 

In ripening ear 
Of the heart's harvest is revealed 

Full mystery of our being here. 

They have no season of their own, 

The sowing and the garnering, 
Whenever is a kindness sown 

Increase a hundred fold will spring; — 

All seasons bring 
To reaper's sickle what has grown 

And ripened unto harvesting. 

No biting cold of winter there. 

No beating of the frozen hail; 
Those sunlit slopes forever wear 

Fresh burden for the thresher's flail; 

On hill and dale 
Of the heart's country everywhere 

Love's harvest home shall never fail. 



29] 



LIFE'S RAIN-SONG 



W] 



HEN noonday sun is shining brightly 
On flashing streams and blossoming meadows, 

When wanton winds are racing lightly 
Over the hills with swift cloud shadows; 

Then in the low-grown alder bushes 

The peacefulness of Nature hushes 

Melodious voices of the thrushes, 
Their service song is then suspended. 

But let the heavens be overclouded, 
And let the summer rain be falling. 

Let hills in veil of mist be shrouded. 
The yaffel from his ash tree calling; 

Then will go on the thrushes' singing, 

Through all the noontide hours ringing, 

Unto the temple service bringing 
Their choral song that is unended. 

So is it when our feet are weary. 

And up-hill lies the way before us; 
When all the scene around is dreary. 

And heavy hang the heavens o'er us; 
When eyes downcast and dim are tearful. 
When thoughts of daily cares are fearful, 
Then is the singing heart yet cheerful 
By rain-song of our tears attended. 

[3°] 



TO MY HAPPY HEART 

JL O my happy heart I sing an idle song, 

Singing to my comrade all the way, 
As my heart and I go thoughtfully along 

Cheering each the other all the day, 
Singing now of champions adventurous and strong. 

Singing now of minstrels light and' gay. 

When across the meadows we are going hand in 
hand. 
Then we both are silent from our joy, 
Round about us lilies in their beauty stand, 

Coming through the daisies are a girl and boy, 
Oh, the charm of youth and the charm of sunny 
land 
When the sun is bold and violets are coy! 

There we go together beneath a sunny sky. 
Cheering each the other all the while; 

Heart is strong the journey in all its length to try 
Though my feet should falter in a mile; 

And when my braver comrade shall turn to say, 
''Good-bye," 
It will be the words are spoken with a smile. 



[31 



SONG OF THE HUMAN 



A 



SONG of merry cheer 
Full of light-hearted mirth and gay, 
Of children happy in their play; 

A song to charm the listening ear 

Of God or man to hear. 

A song of faith and trust, 

Of youth's unbounded confidence 
In Heaven's o'erruHng providence 

To save the righteous cause and just 

Out from the battle's dust. 

A song of courage high, 

Of readiness to face the foe, 

To ward the thrust, to deal the blow, 

Of resolution not to fly. 

To conquer or to die. 

A song of victory won. 

Of right defended on the field. 
Of honor saved with dinted shield^ 

With torch alight the long course run, 

All of life's duty done. 



32 



LIFE'S WEAVING 



O 



UR human feelings blend, 
The seasons that are glad 
Have comrades that are sad; — 
Sorrow abides with Joy unto the end. 

The happy moments pass 

So hurriedly away 

When we would have them stay ! — 
The hours unhappy are slow-paced, alas ! 

Pleasure stands next to Pain, 

And victory is at cost 

Of a field that has been lost; 
Triumph involves defeat, loss goes with gain. 

So is it one must see 

The web of life is wide. 

There is the figured side 
And its reverse crude as in tapestry. 

It is for us to weave 

After the rich design 

Traced by the Hand Divine, 
And to the World a finished fabric leave. 



33 



THE HEART'S FIDELITY 

\JNE name seems doomed to oblivion, 

Another seems given to Fame; 
But after the labors of life are all done, 
The wearisome course of the years has been run, 
The long struggle ended, the victory won. 

Then the two have ended the same. 

The one has a quiet obscurity found 
In a heart that is tender and true. 
The other, with praise of the populace crowned, 
Has been carried all of the wide world around, 
On mortal lips has been heard to resound 
The ranks of the people through. 

But Love, the undying, will never release 

What treasures the heart may hold. 
And when the pulses of life shall cease, 
The years to their ultimate limit increase, 
There yet will remain in that chamber of peace 
The name that was dear of old. 



34 



THE SONG-SAILOR 



H 



E is a sailor from the first, 

His boat launched on a sea of dreams, 
His travel-longing is a thirst 

That never can be quenched, it seems; 
He sails at once into the light 

That brings the morning on its way, 
The tender watchfulness of night. 

The smihng cheerfulness of day. 

He later sails into the west 

Sweet magic of its charm to learn. 
Find where the day goes to its rest, 

Where evening's vestal fires burn ; 
The splendor of the painted skies, 

Rich purple shadows on the shore 
Show what a wealth of beauty lies 

His light, adventurous craft before. 

Day after day, year after year 

His course is laid by stars are true. 
From time to time fair isles appear 

Fresh as if bathed in morning dew; 
Thus sailing on time's ocean vast, 

When all life's voyaging is done. 
His shallop frail shall come at last 

Where morn and eventide are one. 

[3S] 



CHILD OF NATURE 



O 



H, heart of nature, heart of boy 

How closely are related! 
When one is bubbling o'er with joy 

The other is elated; 
There is no creature, low or high, 
Can run or jump, can creep or fly, 
That can escape the lad's quick eye. 
But though he use it as a toy 

So is he educated. 

The cloud moves slowly o'er the skies, 

Below, its shadow follows 
As that of some great eagle flies 

Across the hills and hollows; — 
The boy looks on, his fancy goes 
Where flies the cloud, where water flows. 
Nor any rest nor halting knows 
Until it wakens with surprise 

In the winterland of swallows. 



[36] 



SONG VARIATIONS 

X HE Muses will not always bring 
What I beseech them to repeat, 
And when I would of triumph sing 

The song is rather of defeat; 
Although the singing heart be glad, 
The song itself is often sad, 

For they who rule the measured verse mark it 
with slow-paced feet. 

Not always will the selfsame chord 

Respond aUke to player's hand. 
Not always will the fitting word 

Be ready at the thought's command; 
Much less will note of song reveal 
What sentiments our bosoms feel. 

Nor can the heart of him who hears the singer's 
understand. 

And yet will song of minstrel fare 

As it has journeyed down the past; — 

The thistle blooms as native where 
By chance the thistle-down is cast. 

Forever in the heart will spring 

New melody from trembling string. 

And that which charms the world to-day is not 
to be the last. 

[37] 



TAKING LEAVE 



H 



. ARK to the music, hark ! 
'Tis the singing of the lark 

To welcome dawn; 
Though yet the sky be dark, 

Now night is gone 

I journey on." 

"Nay, nay, do not, I pray. 
So promptly break away 

From love and me; 
Here is splendor while you stay 

More bright to me 

Than lark can see." 

"How quickly hours fly 
When joy and love are nigh, — 

Day comes apace! 
My heart will Unger by 

This charmed place 

Of last embrace." 

"Here through the day I wait 
Outside the Eden gate 

For your return; 
So late, so very late 

Will Vesper learn 

Her lamps to burn!" 

[38] 



SONG — ESSENTIAL 



T 



IS not the form alone 

Nor yet the singer's tone 
That gives its music to the cadenced line; 

'Tis not the rhythmic flow 

Of numbers swift or slow 
That gives to verse its quality divine. 

'Tis not the plaintive word 

In Sorrow's song is heard, 
It is the hush laid on the bated breath; 

Words of themselves were vain 

To tell the spirit's pain, 
Only the sigh that anguish uttereth. 

'Tis not for mortal ear 

The minor strain to hear 
In song as through a meadow winds a rill; 

We cannot see its tide, 

But blossoms by its side 
Show what life-giving floods the channel fill. 

The hand that strikes the string. 

Its music wakening, 
Must lay thereon emotions of the soul. 

So that the lyre may heed 

A voiceless spirit's need 
And yield itself to that supreme control. 

[39] 



YOUTH AND AGE 



Y] 



EARS of youth and years of age, 
Years of play and years of duty 
Have this common heritage, — 
Through all life's long pilgrimage 
Happy heart is filled with beauty. 

Heart of honor, heart of truth. 

Strong in every bold endeavor, 
Heart of pity, heart of ruth, 
Happy, cheerful heart of youth, 
Be with us the same forever. 

Years of gambolling and joy. 

Filled with merriment and laughter, 
Years that dreams of life employ. 
Let bright fancies of the boy 
Be realities long after. 

What the dreams of childhood send 
To the youth and to the maiden. 

Let these to their young lives lend 

What will tarry till the end 

Come with richer blessing laden. 



40 



THE POET'S CALL 

A HE poet calls to the world to stay 
Its steps for the beauty along the way 
The world is going from day to day; 

The poet calls, — but the world heeds not 
The message that out of a heart is brought, 
Heeds nothing that's neither sold nor bought. 

And what does the poet bring to sell? 
Nothing; — he has but a story to tell, 
And his only care is to do this well. 

And what should the poet come to buy? 
Around him all of earth's riches lie, 
Above him the splendor of the sky. 

But though the poet may bring no gain 

To the open market, he yet is fain 

To ease, if he can, a poor World's pain. 

He would find a solace to check its tears, 
A word of courage to calm its fears 
And memories sweet for the later years. 

And when at last shall the evening fall 
To the evensong then sweetest of all 
Shall be heard the notes of the poet's call. 

141I 



A LITTLE SONG 

Jl\. little song framed to a melody 

That takes its cadence from the closing rest 
Of veery singing through the mystery 
Of stealthy Twilight drawing silently 
Deep-curtained darkness round the veery's nest. 
Wherewith she brings her little ones to rest, 
In peace and joy to slumber trustfully 
From every care and every sorrow free 
Within the sanctuary of her breast. 

A little song attempted timorously 

As the first venture of a new-fledged bird 
That makes its trial flight from tree to tree 
And looks about him for security 

If slender twig on which he lights be stirred; 

A little song to bear a single word, 
But if, dear Love, its meaning come to thee 
In the full measure of sincerity 

No matter if by all the rest unheard. 



42 



so WOULD I SING 

^O would I sing as linnets sing 

In tent of orchard tree; 
As goldfinches upon the wing 
And swallows coming in the spring 

With song enrapture me 
Until none other sound I hear 
Of any voices far or near 

Than their sweet melody. 

So would I sing that singing bird 
Might deem the song his own, 
Might fancy that had Echo heard 
His wildwood notes without a word 

And practiced them alone, 
And yet confess that in the sound 
A deeper feeling still was found 
Than he before had known. 

So would I sing for hearts to feel 

Of song the magic sway, 
So would I sing as to reveal 
What language cannot say, and steal 

From Grief its pains away, 
To charm the Summer of the year 
To bide with us, contented, here; — 

So would I sing to-day. 

[43] 



GAIN OF SONG 



H 



OW much of beauty is there shown 
In places where no mortal eye 
Will ever come; how little known 
Are glories of the earth and sky! 
How many gems are never found, 
Bright crystals hidden under ground; 
Charged with excess of flashing light 
Yet treasured in dark vaults of night ! 

How much of melody is made 
That never comes to mortal ear, 

How many symphonies are played 
Our duller senses never hear! 

As sweet the song of singing bird 

When by its mate alone 'tis heard. 
And if the mate be there no more 
The song is sweeter than before. 

And yet there is no beauty lost, 

No crystal has been formed in vain. 

Though fashioned at so great a cost 
The making of it was a gain; 

The song that comes to me to-day 

Will in my soul forever stay 
Whether I wing it with a word 
Or never be its music heard. 

[44] 



THE COMMON BOND 



D 



EEP peacefulness of growing things 
Rests on the farm and wood, 
From happy heart the sparrow sings 

Unto her fledgUng brood; 
This chirp of crickets in the grass 
Is warm with greeting when I pass, 
The cheerful message that it brings 
Saves all from solitude. 

I wonder if the grasses hear 
These friendly crickets greet, 

I wonder if the daisies fear 
Rude trampling of my feet; 

There are in Nature thoughts too fine 

For our dull insight to divine, 

We cannot to her haunts draw near 
Nor with her favorites meet. 

Between that blameless world and me 

The tie is close and strong, 
It holds us both in amity 

As it has held us long; 
And since I feel in every part 
The heart of Nature is my heart, 
It seems the common bond must be 

In the lineage of song. 

[45] 



SONG'S APPEAL 

OOMETIMES it is a smile that cheers 

Dull sorrow of the heart, 
Sometimes a low sweet tone appears 

To soothe a bitter smart; 
Another time a simple strain 

Of music soft and low 
Will ease a bosom of its pain, 

Bereavement of its woe. 

It is enough, — the kindly tone, 

It matters less, — the word. 
The feeling of the heart is shown 

In accents faintly heard; 
Fond heart that beats in sympathy 

Its neighbor heart will stir. 
And this unto itself will be 

Its own interpreter. 

So is it that a little song 

May help a world in tears, 
Repeated as it lingers long 

In memory of years; 
Though faint may be the song's appeal, 

If only it be true, 
Unto the gentle hearts that feel 

It is forever new. 

[46] 



MINSTRELSY 



H 



E who in sympathy has heard 
The low soft trilUng of a bird, 

To loved one singing, 
Is privileged to learn by heart 
Coy secret of the minstrel's art, 

His wild notes flinging 
Upon a world given o'er to care 
Yet leaving lonely places where 

Are harebells clinging. 

It is the art from Nature caught, 
From shore and field and forest brought. 

From sky and ocean; 
The minstrel's rhythmic numbers are 
In measured movement regular 

As tides in motion. 
And with their beating rise and fall 
The gentle pulsing musical 

Of Love's devotion. 



47 



FRAGMENTS OF SONG 



I 



N the stillness of summer is heard 
Sometimes the soft notes of a bird 

From the borders of cloudland singing; 
So in silence the heart may be stirred 
By the echoing sound of a word 

From the belfry of memory ringing. 

It may be the broken string 
With a cry stops its vibrating, 

Voiceless to be forever; 
It may be the birds that sing 
Have tired the venturesome wing 

And will come to their song-land never. 

But yet on hill and on plain 
Will the magic of music remain 

With a power that is unbroken; 
For it holds in the simple strain 
That voices love's pleasure and pain 

What can never, never be spoken. 

Only fragments of song are these 
Broken chords of earth's harmonies, 

Begun and then later suspended; 
But coming as solaces 
Into hearts their sorrows to ease 

In paeans of praise are they ended. 

[48 1 



SUGGESTION 



A 



FRAGMENT of a song, 
One single silvery strain, — 
It haunts me all day long, 
At night it comes again. 

That echoing note I hear 
Chime with the vesper bell. 

So musically clear 
As if from heaven it fell. 

It blends with gladsome note 
Across green meadows heard 

Poured from the tuneful throat 
Of early morning bird. 

The thrushes, singing late 
At evening hour alone. 

Have this one strain to mate 
With melodies their own. 

I know not whence 'tis brought 
Nor where its charms belong; 

It comes a happy thought, 
It goes an idle song. 

[49] 



WINGED SONG 

JL HE heart of singer is the home of song 
Wherein has this with others had its birth, 
And where the brood have fondly nestled long, 
Have passed most pleasant days in blameless 
mirth; 
When now one leaves the nest, 
Escapes the singer's breast, 
It makes a timid flight on untried wings. 
Nor will it yet attempt life's loftier things. 

It may be that the fledgling on its way 

Shall come to one who hears it with delight, 
And, bidden with another heart to stay, 

Shall tarry there and rest throughout the night; 
Shall find a welcome warm. 
Safe shelter from the storm, 
And there perchance the song may come to be 
Most happy strain in some sweet symphony. 

Were there in all the world no other heart 

To which the song would be most welcome guest, 
Then were it from its home loth to depart. 
Or, leaving, would come back at night to rest; 
And thus the world indeed 
Of song would be in need. 
And many an hour of life would then be long 
That now most happily is winged with song. 

[sol 



FAREWELL TO CARE 



I 



T rains — a heavy shadow broods 
Over the meadows and the woods, 

A deep gloom bringing 
All Nature's chorus to a hush 
Except that evensong of thrush 

Is left still ringing; 
It is as if all, far and near, 
Had stopped — as I have stopped — to hear 

That sweet voice singing. 

Sometimes the faint soul feels the strain 
Of anxious thought and silent pain, 

The day is dreary; 
Our life is burdened with its cares, 
And with the load of grief it bears 

The heart is weary; 
Then let us give to care the wing 
Of song, and in our freedom sing 

As sings the veery. 



SI 



SONGS OF LIFE 

X HE songs our voices raise 

Are sung in hearty praise 
Of what was fair 
And was gladsome there, 

In our childhood's happy days. 

We sing of fairy gold, 

Of men who were wise and bold 
When life was new 
And all hearts were true 

In the far-off days of old. 

But now and then a strain 
In the minor key will plain, — 

Will tell how near 

Are together here 
Our seasons of joy and of pain. 

The heart cannot forget 
Its youthful joys, nor yet 

Can it forego 

Outbursts of woe 
When the sorrows of life are met. 



[52] 



BETWEEN DAWN AND NIGHT 



H, 



OWEVER long or short the day, 
However bright or dark the skies, 
It is a matter of surprise 
How much that's sad, how much that's gay 
Between the dawn and evening Hes. 

With beauty is the heart made glad, — 
With beauty of the fields in May 
When fields appear in fresh array. 

And yet the same heart must be sad 
To see that beauty fade away. 

The heart in singing takes delight, 
In morning hymn of hermit thrush 
When feelings into rapture rush; 

But when the descant falls at night 
Then comes upon the heart a hush. 

As with the day so with the years 
Of life, beginning bright and fair. 
When toward the evensong they wear 

And from the heavens day disappears, 
Yet faithful stars are shining there. 



53] 



EVENSONG OF PRAISE 

A HE wood thrush sings and will not stay 

Its one familiar strain; 
Soon as the music dies away 

That song begins again; 
It runs as runs a meadow stream 

Through all the twilight long, 
Refreshing blossoms of a dream 

With dewiness of song. 

Those cadences are soft and low 

As evening's curfew bell, 
And falUng into silence so 

Again to triumph swell; 
Through drowse of day the wood thrush sings 

In that same minor key. 
Yet soul of listener upsprings 

To loftier ecstasy. 

O silvery-fluting Voice of thrush 

That leads the day to close. 
That leads all chirping to a hush, 

AU chirpers to repose; 
Be thou, sweet Voice, a Muse to me, 

Most gracious one to raise 
My soul to Heaven's full harmony. 

An evensong of praise. 

[54] 



REPEATED SONG 



W, 



E cannot have the year without the spring, 
We cannot have the spring without the song 
Of bluebirds coming on impatient wing, 
Of countless other choristers that bring 
A service lasting all the summer long. 

We cannot have the year without the throng 

Of daisies mustering on sunny lea, 
Anemones come out in numbers strong, 
By willow-bordered brookside troop along 

CowsHps and dafl&es dancing merrily. 

We cannot have the year without the fall, 

The later season of decadent leaf; 
The crimson-tinted sumac by the wall 
And in the field the cricket's plaintive call 

Tell of a closing year whose course is brief. 

We look upon the pageantry of mirth, 

And mark its passing with a sense of pain, 
So much of gaiety goes out from earth, 
Of music and of dance is so great dearth! 

And yet we know that spring will come again. 



55 



THE HEART'S SOVEREIGN 

JL/OVE dwells apart 
In purity of thought, 
Of word, of all that's wrought 

Within the heart. 

There Love is lord, 
Full mastery acquires. 
Brings all the heart's desires 

To sweet accord. 

Within that sphere 
Love holds supreme control 
O'er matters of the soul, 

Casts out all fear. 

Who Love obeys 
Goes on life's journey long 
Singing a happy song. 

Of Love the praise. 

When this shall cease, 
We know at last our friend 
Has come unto that end 

That's perfect peace. 

[56] 



SONG SURVIVAL 



I 



T is not to the ear alone 
The song is sung; — its music dies 
Into a low pathetic tone 
That cloistered in the memory lies 
Once more with other songs to rise. 

As in the silence of a wood 

We hear the wind among the trees, 

According to our present mood 
The melody made by the breeze 
Is softly plaintive by degrees. 

A mountain cUff high up and steep 
With moss is slowly overgrown, 

There toiling lichens cHmb and creep, 
At last in crevice of the stone 
A harebell by the wind is blown. 

And so it is in human lives 

Some tone of feehng lingers long; 

Through generations it survives. 
And when at last 'tis rooted strong 
It buds and blossoms into song. 



57 



FOR ALL 



N. 



OT for that heart alone, 

The heart that keeps on singing all day long, 
In gladness of its own 
And in a merry tone 

Is made the winsome melody of song. 

Another heart is near, 

It may be of companion or of friend. 
Or stranger may appear, 
May stop a while to hear 

The cadenced music falling to the end; 

It may be no one stays 

His steps to listen to the singer's voice, 
But yet the note of praise 
That hearts rejoicing raise 

Must help to make the Giver's heart rejoice. 

The Eternal Presence knows 

What grace the harmony of music yields; 
By that same order grows 
The beauty of the rose, 

The royal-mantled lily of the fields. 



S8] 



SONG OF SONGS 



H. 



E who sang the Song of Songs 
Knew to whom that strain belongs; 

To Love, the all-deserving; 
To Love aye drawing soul to soul 
As turns the needle to the pole, 

From that course never swerving. 

This the song that's sung in praise 
Of the love that with us stays 

Throughout life's journey ever, — 
Love that casts no shadow here, 
Knows no winter in its year 

And fails in duty never. 

We who timidly essay 
Singing songs of love to-day. 

We hesitate and falter; 
Let us then in theme and tone 
Make that Song of Songs our own, 

And not one accent alter. 



[59 I 



SEA SHELLS 

/jLRE songs of Ariel ringing clear, 

Do sirens sing enchantingly? — 
We hold the sea shell to the ear 
And from its lip of pearl we hear 
The low sweet music of the sea. 

Poor empty shells ! — upon the beach 

We find them when the storm is o'er; 
And now beyond the billows' reach 
Those vocal lips yet strive to teach 
What moans the ocean evermore. 

They call to where sea-gardens sleep 

In quietude of tropic seas, 
And in their cadenced music keep 
The secret longing of the deep 

For earth's primeval harmonies. 

Poor exiled shells that still repeat 
Their nature song in undertone; 
Responsive still to pulsing beat 
Of ebb and flow, of cold and heat; — 
What rhythm has creation known ! 



60 



LIFE-SONG 



Wi 



ITHIN the heart the life-song singeth low 
As at the border of the summer wood 
All day unseen the veery singeth so 
To quiet down her restless callow brood; — 
It singeth low and long 
The love-inspired song 
That cheers the toilsome, up-hill way we go 
Yet is by Nature's fondhngs understood. 

It is a song for other hearts to hear 

Within their choir repeated o'er and o'er 
As in the wood is heard from year to year 
The mother bird her song of soothing pour, 
Until, the world around. 
That selfsame song is found 
Fining the days of mortal hfe with cheer 
And keeping hearts in concord evermore. 

A song it is of peace along the way, 

Of triumph as we come toward the end; 
There is no pause the even step to stay. 

No note that to impatient haste would tend. 
Heaven is so very near 
The way we journey here 
We take the blessings offered day by day 

And make them greater, sharing with a friend. 

[6i] 



FOR INTERPRETING 



O 



SINGER of the lonely wood 

Within the dark and hollow glen 
Of clustering mountains which include 

Space rarely trod by feet of men, 
Sing on in your deep solitude 
In pensive mood, 
Nor fear I will within your haunts intrude, — 

And yet my songs — it seems to me 

They could not be 

Other than sweet if they were sung by thee ! 

Ah, singer knowing what is song 

And knowing what is melody. 
What things to our sober thought belong 

And what belong to ecstasy, 
Let your unstudied strain be short or long, 
Feeble or strong. 
You cannot in its rendering go wrong; 

But let me try hard as I may 

The simplest lay, 

To Heaven's heart I fail to find my way. 



62 



SONGS UNSUNG 

A wo spirits meeting on the narrow way 
Of mortal life are both divinely thrilled, 

Each with the other's presence, and yet they 

Can find no utterance by which to say 
With how much of delight their hearts are filled. 

So is it that the soul is lacking speech 

When most it feels of utterance the need. 
The gift of language lacks the power to reach 
Words of a meaning large enough to teach 

What means from friend to friend the heart's 
"God-speed." 

Too late one realizes it has passed, — 

The chance that he may with the other meet, 
Remembers when they were together last. 
Would give the world if he could life recast 
And that fond session of two souls repeat. 

It were in vain, — the words that we would say 
Would linger yet on charmed lip and tongue. 
The fluttering heart our eager speech would stay, 
And still in silence should we turn away; — 
Thus do our sweetest songs remain unsung. 



63 



OF THE SPIRIT 



I 



T is not the sunshine bright 
Upon the burning sand, 
It is not the tempest's might 
On the imresisting strand, 
But it is an action tender 
As if a grace it would render 
Removes the veil from our mortal sight, 
And then we find that we stand 
In the glory of Heaven's splendor. 

It is not the music heard 

Outringing loud and clear. 
It is not the spoken word 
That we are so glad to hear, 
But it is that tone of feeling 
Into our own hearts stealing 
From hearts that by our grief are stirred 
To the trembling of a tear 
Their tenderness reveahng. 



64 



WEFT OF SONG 

X HERE is need of more than the will, 

Of more than the sprightliest thought, 
There is need of more than the skill 

With which are madrigals wrought. 
To make such a song as will live 

Wholly free from the w^ll-measured line; — 
'Tis the touch of a hand that will give 

Somewhat of a spirit divine. 

But the singer — he never can know 

Full meaning of that which he sings, 
For, whatever feeling may flow, 

Yet more to his bosom there clings; 
And he never can fathom the source 

From which his own soul is supplied. 
Nor ever will measure the force 

Of his passion's outflowing tide. 

Of a kindred soul is there need 

If the currents of feeling shall flow. 
For the rill would not run if the mead 

Were not beckoning it from below; 
But the thoughts which no words can express 

To the heart of the singer belong; 
Only what the heart feels in excess 

Goes into the weft of a song. 

[65] 



WHY SAD? 

A HIS later age sings oftener of sorrow, 
Laments its grief and pain; 
From themes of sadness now our singers borrow 
Their most familiar strain. 

High notes of joy in song are heard no longer, — 

Of joy in singer's heart, 
But all the time is sad complaining stronger 

Of life in every part. 

It was not so — there was no thought of sadness, 

Our race felt it was young 
When out of hearts that overflowed with gladness 

The earlier minstrels sung. 

Men count their years as in their far recession 

The years are by them seen, 
A course of winters following in succession 

With not a spring between; 

Forgetful that all spiritual existence 

Is not of years or days, 
That the immortal with divine persistence 

Somewhere forever stays. 



66 



FOR REMEMBRANCE 

CiARELESS if it be heard, 

Or if no one be near 

Its simple song to hear, 
The sweetly singing bird 

Out of a tuneful throat 

Gives most enchanting note 
Till all the woods with melody are stirred. 

And so it is that one 

Who sings to his own heart 

Employs his highest art 
E'en though there may be none 

In his delight to share; — 

He finds his guerdon there 
In what remains after the song is done. 

So is it now with me 

While here I stroll along, 

Sing to myself a song; 
I pray that this may be 

Kept as a souvenir, 

For the singer's sake held dear 
And treasured long in Love's fond memory. 



[67] 



IN WIDER SPHERE 

V^N boughs of orchard trees in early spring 

In pink and white most delicate appear 
Full, tender buds so shyly opening, 

And promising rich fruitage of the year; 
Beyond the vision of that early bloom 
We scent the fragrance of its sweet perfume, 
And while the beauty of the blossom clings 

Within the shelter of its winter's rest 
The spirit of that loveliness takes wings, 

And my dull sense is with its presence blessed. 

In thickets dense with osier twigs and leaves 

By streamlet side the wood thrush makes her nest. 
And here in holy hush of summer eves 

She sings in peace her little ones to rest; 
We may not catch the flash of mottled wings, 
We may not watch the singer while she sings, •• 
Night after night we sit and listen so. 

Expectant of that voice all summer long. 
Nor can the enraptured singer ever know 

How many hearts are charmed by her sweet song. 



68] 



SONG AND THE VOICE 

A HE song and "the Voice," — they are one, 

"The Voice" that says to me, "Sing!" 
There is nothing more to be done 

But heed the low notes as they ring ; 
What may be to others a word 

Of distress, of sorrow and pain, 
When it comes to my hearing, is heard 

As a chord of a musical strain. 

Loud shoutings of gladness and mirth 

Move humanity only in part, 
It is the sharp cry of the earth 

That reaches and quickens the heart; 
The sunlight is warm on the hill, 

And cool is the shade of the tree. 
Each has its fine purpose to fill. 

To give service to you and to me. 

For the day, — it is followed by night 

The wide circuit of our earth around, 
Deep shadows are born of the light 

As echo is ofi'spring of sound; 
The shades owe their lives to the sun. 

To the sun all their graces belong. 
So the song and "the Voice," — they are one, 

Both abiding with us in the song. 

[69] 



IDLE THOUGHTS 



I 



KNOW not if it be 
Some waif of memory 

Out in the world astray, 
Or if it be a thought 
Out of the future brought 

Into our own to-day. 

Under the open sky 

I watch white clouds go by, 

Drifting along, wind-blown; 
Whence come they, whither go? 
Is not for me to know, 

Yet is their errand known. 

These idle thoughts delay 
Their course a while and stay 

With me through hours long, 
And I would keep them near 
To me through all the year, 

Inwoven into song. 



70] 



APOLLO'S LYRE 



B 



'ETWEEN these mountain slopes of rugged 

form 
That hold the plain as two confronting foes, 
Their towering heads close-helmeted with snows, 
Undaunted faces channeled by the storm; 
Between these ledges piled 
In broken masses wild 
As golden stream the evening sun shines through; 
With threads of living fire 
And rain is formed a lyre 
Such as persuasive hand of the god Apollo knew. 

What though the strings be mute to mortal ear, 
And human hand to touch them strive in vain? 
Those strings of golden light and amber rain 
Make in their colors harmony appear; 

Of blending light and shade 

A symphony is made 
That runs between the hills as a river sweeps along; 

And in that glow we see 

Tones of a melody 
Moving the reed-like heart as with a flood of song. 



71 



RETURN OF ORPHEUS 



H 



E came in gladness on a pathway dim 
That leads out from a realm of mystery, 
With noiseless footsteps slowly followed him 
The shadowy form of his Eurydice. 

The singer touched the string by which his skill 
Had charmed the dog beside the iron gate, 

Had overcome the adamantine Will 

That fixes firm the hard decrees of Fate; 

He touched the string, he greeted light with song 
Such as the world had never heard before; 

With sorrow had his heart been burdened long, 
But now with gladness was it running o'er. 

His song was one of joy and victory 

That he had wrought the purpose of his soul, 

Had entered on the lists with Destiny 

And had in triumph proudly reached the goal. 

At length he turned his head aside to see 
If she, his comrade, did applaud the theme, 

Only to find the loved Eurydice 

Had vanished as the vision of a dream. 



72 



IN DREAMLAND 



Ui 



NWEARIEDLY we go a pathless way 
Through dimly lighted land of dreams to seek 
Some clearer, wider vision of the day 

From towering summit of a lonely peak; 
It is a shadowy land that we behold 

Half -hidden by dark clouds that trail along 
Beneath our feet, 
The middle distance — an enchanted wold — 
Is over flooded with impassioned song 
Divinely sweet. 

We know that we shall never reach again 

That silent peak beneath the silent skies, 
That music to recall we know is vain 

Soon as the morning light unseals our eyes; 
But there we stand enchanted, listening long 

To untaught music of a fancied host 
Of singing birds; 
Half-conscious that the witchery of song 

Must with the vanishing of dreams be lost, 
Unwed to words. 



73 



MAGIC OF SONG 

X HE song that has been sung so many times, 
Has lived in memory through so many years, 
Set to a plaintive air in simple rhyme, 
Falls with its charm of music on the ears 
And moves the soul to tears. 

Is it the vibrant sympathetic word 
That's spoken in a fondly loving tone. 

Or strain of music once in rapture heard, 
Stealing its way into the heart alone 
With magic of its own? 

Ah, who can tell from what deep-hidden source 
The tenderest feehngs of our nature rise, 

Or by what channels they will take their course? 
We only know their silvery current lies 
Close bordering Paradise. 

The thoughts that with the simple strain have birth 
Are kindred with the heart's first dream of love. 

They Hft the impassioned spirit from the earth 
And all the soul's enraptured feelings move 
On flower-strewn paths above. 



74] 



FROM YEAR TO YEAR 

1/ ROM year to year, from spring to spring, 
Soon as I hear the bluebird sing, 

There comes to me the memory 
Of what the dear birds used to bring. 

A promise clear of brighter skies 
That Winter here to us denies 

On azure wings the bluebird brings 
Our hearts to cheer with glad surprise. 

How have I heard that song to-day! 
The little bird, so bUthe and gay. 

From its full throat poured simple note 
That without word charms me for aye. 

It leads me back through many years 
Along a track that's marked wdth tears 

Until I reach the tideless beach 
Whereon the wrack of time appears. 

Here I remain and listen long 
To hear again the bluebird's song. 
O could I make for his dear sake 
My simple strain as clear and strong! 



75 



HARMONIES 



T 



IS not alone to cadenced song, 

To strains of music that we hear, 
The sweetest harmonies belong 

That bring the heart its brightest cheer; 
It may be that a floweret, seen 

Among the grass with happy face. 
Gives added beauty to the green 

Where God has set it in that place. 

We hear the sound of village bells 

Across wide space of waters float. 
The pulsing music fails and swells 

With idle rocking of our boat; 
Upon its way that chiming stole 

Some portion of the lily's dower. 
And now we know how sweet a soul 

Is wedded to how fair a flower. 

These harmonies to outward sense 

Are faintly typical of those 
That come to us, we know not whence. 

And charm our spirits to repose; 
Identities of wish and thought 

That unto kindred souls belong. 
Form, when they are together brought, 

An unheard, unrecorded song. 

[76] 



BOYHOOD 

On orchard slope, in bordering wood, 

The birds are singing clear 
A gladsome song of happy mood 

It is a joy to hear; — 
To hear the blackbird calling shrill, 

The wood-thrush calling low, 
Song-sparrow singing by the rill 

Soft as its waters flow. 

The liquid notes of morning song 

Fall soft as falls the dew 
On ferns and grasses all night long 

The field and meadow through; 
It sets the current of the stream 

With pulsing air in tune. 
And UHes on the water dream 

Of river-banks in June. 

So is it that the morning breaks 

With every sign of joy, 
So is it that the world awakes 

To wake the sleeping boy; 
For him the pleasure of the eyes, 

The blessing of the ears. 
The beauty that around him Ues, 

The music that he hears. 

[77] 



ONLY TWO 



D 



O you, dear Heart, do you recall 
One morning when the world was young, 
The bloom of spring was over all 

And gates of Eden outward swung 
To let a happy pair go through, — 
Do you recall that one was you? 

They were alone — that happy pair — 
That new-made world was all their own; 

For them it had been made so fair, 
Its fields with flowers thickly sown ; — 

Made beautiful for only two, 

And one of these, dear Heart, was you. 

The splendor of the morning light. 
The glory of the crowned day, 

The steadfastness of sable night 
Whose altar fires are lit for aye; — 

So much of beautiful and true. 

Of God's great gifts for only two ! 

Wrapped in an atmosphere of bliss 
As sculptor's dream in smiling stone. 

Do we forget ourselves to this. 
To see the universe our own ! — 

All this delight for only two, 

Your own fond love, dear Heart, and you! 

[78I 



TO THE SINGER 

V>«EASE not, O Singer, do not cease thy song; 
Mine ears have Kstened to its music long, 

And now my heart as well 

Would own the magic spell 
Of its low melody that is though sweetly clear yet 
strong. 

Sing on, sweet minstrel of the wayside choir, 
Content with gratitude for hire; 

Content your gift to share. 

Content to lighten care. 
To help some other gifted soul to loftier heights 
aspire. 

Cease not, O Singer, do not cease thy song; 
Thy gifts of magic to mankind belong; 

The sweetness of thy voice 

May help the world rejoice, 
Remind it of the good and true and serve to banish 
wrong. 

Sing on, sweet minstrel of the happiest birth, 
Whose calling is to cheer the home and hearth; 

Sing of a higher home 

To which the soul shall come 
And learn at last how poor this Ufe and yet how 
great its worth. 

[79] 



HEART OF YOUTH 



O 



HEART of Youth, forever young, 
For sweetest strains divinely strung; 
How do those chords, vibrating still, 
The soul with tenderest feeling thrill! 
And how to memory has clung 

The music of our earlier years. 
How have those chiming accents rung 
To shifting moods of smiles and tears, 
To songs no other singer hears! 

Dear Heart of Youth, forever strong 

Against all violence of wrong. 

That faints not from the length of way 
Nor from the burden of the day; 

Go with me all life's journey long. 
Support of your fine courage lend, 

And cheer me with your happy song; 
Be thou my faithful constant friend, 
My fellow- traveler to the end! 



80 



THE LAST SONG 

X HE play was over and the music ended, 
The Ughts were burning low, 
And vanished all the glittering pageant splendid 

That ruled short time ago; 
Now empty were the benches which were rendered 

Tumultuous with applause 
That to the gentle singer had been tendered 

Unstinted at each pause; — 
'Twas but a child, last one of all in leaving. 

Now turning at the door 
As if in faith of childish soul believing 

There must be one note more. 
The singer saw those tender eyes appealing 

Unto a tender heart. 
She sang one strain of lofty song revealing 

More than all skill of art. 
Transported with her joy, the young girl listened 

To music such as this; 
Then, smiling thanks from deep blue eyes that 
ghstened, 
Sent back a good-night kiss. 



[8i] 



AT HOSTELRY OF THOUGHT 



W] 



HO builds the mansion of his mind 
Seeks strongest timber he can find 

From olden forests brought; 
Lays the foundation strong and deep 
The stately edifice to keep 

For sheltering of thought. 

Here will he entertain with rest 

The stranger and the bidden guest, — 

With rest, good-cheer and wine; 
Here host with guest and friend with friend 
Will meet and in sweet converse blend 

The human and divine. 

When here a thought at fading light 
May seek a shelter for the night 

Worn by a journey long, 
'Tis given warm bath, rich feast in hall, 
The very softest couch of all 

In bed-chamber of song. 



82 



HERITAGE OF SONG 



N. 



OT on cold lips of stone 
As those of Memnon old, 
Of which is marvel told 

That when the sun first shone 
At morning hour his rays 
Awoke a hymn of praise 

Sung in exultant tone, 
O'er leagues of desert rolled; 

Not thus has Song appeared 
When first upon the earth 
Has she had glorious birth. 

Has hearts of mortals cheered. 
But on fair lips that smiled 
Sweetly as dreaming child 

Has Song been bom and reared 
To her immortal worth. 

softly warbled Song 

Led by Apollo's lyre, 

Whose heart does Love inspire, 
To whom does Art belong, 

Thou hast thy heritage 

In that far Golden Age 
When hearts of men were strong, 

Were noble in desire. 

[83] 



THE UNHEARD CHOIR 



Wi 



HO listens to the passing winds may note, 

Day after day through year succeeding year, 
A sigh of sadness on the breezes float, 

With falling dew see drop a silent tear; 

Far bitter cry of anguished soul may hear 
Across the wave as if now Charon's boat 

To that unlighted shore were drawing near. 

Who wanders by the river on its way 

From lake among the mountains to the sea 
May fancy that the waters are at play 

Where they leap over ledges, bounding free; 

May hear them laughing in an ecstasy 
Of pure delight, and where they idly stay 

Their course, hear an unsouled Undine's glee. 

The one in sympathy with Nature feels 

More than to soul of man sense ever brings, 
With what he sees into his being steals 

Yet clearer vision of diviner things; 

With note of woodland songster faintly rings 
Another note responsive, that reveals 

What melody an unheard choir sings. 



[84] 



IN HARMONY 

A HE burden of winds that blow 

From the chilly west, 
The burden of drifting snow 

That will never rest; 
The rhythmic beating of wings 

As they sweep along, 
And the voice of the maiden who sings 

A low, sweet song; 

These are but voices of earth, 

Of earth and of sky. 
Children's shouting in mirth 

And the sea-mew's cry; 
Many the hymns of praise 

And the songs of woe; 
Many and varied the lays 

From hearts below. 

But these to the Infinite Ear 

Blend in one strain, 
Both what is pleasing to hear 

And what is pain. 
For the Grand Composer takes, 

Of dirge and of glee, 
Notes discordant and makes 

Sweet melody . 

[85] 



SINGING OF THE SOUL 

A HE cricket puts so much of hearty cheer, 
So much of summer gladness in his song 

That, walking in the fields, I seem to hear 
The selfsame cricket singing all day long 

So merrily 

The world must seem to be 

A world of light and joy for him and me. 

The cricket keeps up his low monotone 

While on the birch white-throated sparrow sings, 

In dusk of twilight cricket sings alone 

Regardless of the hush that evening brings; 

He has no care 

If you or I be there, 

Or song be wasted on the silent air. 

So is it with the singing of the soul 
That goes its way in quietude of peace. 

Its heart once fixed upon the distant goal. 
From song of gladness never will it cease, 

But all the way 

Whether by night or day 

Will make life happy with its voice so gay. 



86 



LOVE AND FAITH 

X S there love that shall last through the years, 
With increase of their numbers grow strong? 
Is there hope that is shadowed by fears 
And grief that is softened by tears? 
Then is there a need for so long 
Of the sweet ministration of Song. 

Is there faith that holds fast to the truth 

While truth bears the scoff and the scorn? 
Is there wisdom that's comrade of youth 
And companion of age? then forsooth 

Will the world turn again toward the morn, 
Exult in a Song newly born. 

For a faith that is simple and just, 

For a love that's unselfish and strong, 

The world waits in confident trust 

Believing these two pillars must 
To the beautiful gateway belong 
That admits to the temple of Song. 



87 



IN POVERTY 

A HE Singer himself is poor, 
He was born to no higher estate, 
His infancy played round the cottage door, 
Not inside the palace gate; — 
He had for his childhood mate 
The Muse who is ever young, 
And she to his heart and soul has sung 
What songs are yet lingering late; 

Has sung of the sweet content 

That is found on the countryside 
Where lives in the quiet of home are spent, 

Where pleasures of youth abide; 

The Muse has kept close by his side. 
Repeating of home-life the praise; — 
To mingle her notes in his lays 

Evermore the Singer has tried. 

And not unhappy the song 

Nor plaintive the simple strain 
He carols forth as he trudges along 

Over Hfe's dusty plain; — 

In a world of sorrow and pain 
To have the fond Muse by his side 
Is to have her a joy-bringing bride. 

And himself to be youthful again. 
[88 1 






TIME'S ANTHOLOGY 



H 



ERE from the sifting of the years, 
From all the product of the past, 
The finest of its thought appears, 
What Fate declares that it shall last. 

Upon these pages softly glow 

What lights have burned in former years, 
We read these tender words and know 

They have been often read with tears. 

With ease the devious ways we trace 
By which has singers' fancy gone, 

And joining those of equal pace 
With them we proudly follow on. 

So in the future there shall be 
Those who in our to-day shall find 

That in the realms of Poesy 
There is a brotherhood of mind. 

A word of truth, if it be new, 
A word of faith, if it be strong. 

Shall last the coming ages through 
And be the inspiring theme of song. 



89 



THE FINER SENSE 



O 



THAT one might be given so fine an ear 

That he could hear 
The growing grass at opening of the year! 

Hear violets creep 
Out of their beds after a winter's sleep 

Dreamless and deep ! 

What pleasure would the heart of mortal gain 

To hear the strain 
Of exultation from upspringing grain ! 

To hear the sweet 
Low childish voices of young blades of wheat 

Each other greet! 

Was not this to our earliest parents given, 

The gift of Heaven 
Before they were from Eden's garden driven? 

Thus making Eve 
So tenderly, so passionately grieve 

Her flowers to leave? 

Our gifts are portioned to us as our need. 

Our longings lead 
The soul to venture on some worthy deed; — 

Enough is fair. 
Enough of melody is everywhere 

Were w^e aware. 

[90] 



THEMES OF SONG 

JL HE painter chooses subjects for his brush 

From what around him most Hfelike appears, 
A boy, it may be, Hstening to a thrush. 

Enchanted with the melody he hears; 
Or it may be where age with youth at play 

Puts off the sober mask of care and pain, 
And going back o'er many years to-day 

Becomes at heart a happy child again. 

It is not always that of far-off things, 

Of half-forgotten battles long ago. 
Nor of heroic deeds the minstrel sings; — 

More oft his songs from nearer fountain flow. 
Fond pressure of a hand, fond look of love. 

May lead him life's long pathway to retrace, 
Care of the intervening years remove. 

And bring him with his childhood face to face. 

His are again the unspoken thoughts of youth, 

Bright scenes are round him, fairy-like, to bless. 
He has once more the friendship that is truth, 

The smile of Nature that is loveliness; 
And finding that of all this pleasant earth 

The goodliest portion to himself belongs. 
Within his heart most generous thoughts have 
birth, 

And these he puts into his happiest songs. 

[91] 



SOUL OF SILENCE 

30UL of Silence, standing near 
At the opening of the year 
When the winds of April blow 
Over fields of melting snow, 
What of heartiness and cheer 
In the bluebird's song you hear! 

Song with gladness running o'er, 
Telling Spring is here once more; 
TelHng heart of bird was true 
All the silent Winter through. 
That the dream of bud and bough 
Is made good in beauty now. 

Soul of Silence, waiting still 
For the echo from the hill, 
Waiting for the song to be 
Outburst mad of revelry, 
You will wait in patience till 
Mingled songs the woodland fill. 



92 



so LONG 



OO long as Love remains, 

So long 
Will sound the silvery strains 

Of song 
That tells of joys and pains, 
Of losses and of gains 
That unto Love's domains 

Belong. 

So long as Love is here, 

So long 
Shall we in rapture hear 

His song 
Ringing so loud and clear. 
Free from all notes of fear, 
As borne from sphere to sphere 

Along. 

So long as Love is fair. 

So long 
Will Joy and Sorrow share 

That song; 
For love is bold to wear 
The warrior's helm, to bear 
Arms in the fight, to dare 

Be strong. 

[93] 



HEART OF GLADNESS 



O 



HEART of Gladness, Heart of Joy, 
Dear happy Heart of happy boy ! 
The skies above are bright and clear. 

The world around fair to the sight, 
Sweet songs of birds for one to hear, 

And life nought but a pure delight; 
What need of greater happiness 
Glad heart of happy boy to bless! 

He lives to Nature very near 

In things to see, in things to hear, 

In beauty of the oriole's wing. 

In melody of linnet's song; 
To him soft airs of summers bring 

A query he has pondered long, — 
What land beyond the water lies 
To which the summer swallow flies? 

Can it be fairer than his own. 

With more to charm than he has known? 

If so, why should the swallow fly 

So far across the sea to bring 
Its prophecy of summer nigh 

While yet it is our chilly spring? 
And this the only weight of care 
Light-hearted boyhood has to bear! 

[94] 



AGE OF SONG 

J. HERE was a time when waiting mortals heard 

Some notes of song that came from higher sphere, 
More musical than any spoken word 

From human Ups has ever fallen here; 
Then walked Apollo on Cyllene's height, 

Woke with his voice the lyre's reponsive string, 
Then joined the maiden Muses with delight 

In choral dance around Pierian spring. 

There was a time when tuneful waters ran 
With merry laughter reedy banks between, 

From time to time were heard sweet songs of Pan, 
Although the singer of them was unseen; 

The winds upon the river's face were still 
Yet reeds were trembling all its banks along, 

What could it be but that the master's skill 
Was waking these to harmony of song. 

The age of song was ended long ago. 

Its time among mankind was very brief. 
It went as soon as men to hear were slow 

And lost the ease of childhood for belief; — 
We hear no more the streamlet's rhythmic flow, 

The reeds' entrancing music without end, 
Because we do no longer care to know 

To make the low, soft notes of Nature blend. 

[951 



THE HAPPY HEART 

± HE happy heart goes all the day 
A quiet grass-grown path along, 

With smiling face it cheers the way, 
It makes the burden Hght with song, 

At coming of the morn 'tis gay, 
At evening is with labor strong. 

The happy heart of happy boy 
Goes all the way with toiling man, 

Whatever heavy tasks employ 
His hand he does them as he can; 

At their completion finds the joy 

That all his hopes and dreams outran. 

Unlike the halting tired feet. 

The heart ne'er feels the need of rest; 
Repose to weary limbs is sweet 

And that given by the heart is best; 
Where merry heart and duty meet, 

There is the life of mortal blest. 



96 



SONG AND ECHO 

A HE singer puts his heart into a song 
And sends this forth to wander at its will, 
To follow bank of meadow stream along 
Or clamber up the slope of wooded hill 
To where does Echo in her rocky cell 

Receive the visitor with ecstasy, 
And practising the novel measure well 

Give back the song anew in melody, and melody, 
and melody. 

Or it may be the vagrant one shall meet 

Some lonely heart that has been waiting long. 
That now is glad another heart to greet. 

Give entertainment to a homeless song; 
And there the wanderer contented dwells. 

Hostess and guest in perfect harmony; — 
Echo and song chime as do marriage bells 

Their happy tidings ring in melody, and melody, 
and melody. 



97 



FOOTFALLS OF THOUGHT 

1/ OND thoughts that to the poet's soul appear 

But steps of unseen angels going by, 
Whose footfalls to his senses ringing clear 
Reveal to him a heavenly presence near 

Although denied his vision to descry. 

Those steps seem always coming from above, 

Seem never, never from him to depart. 
He hears them on the ladder-rungs of love 
From Heaven descending, and their hurryings prove 
They find warm hostelry within his heart. 

Nor do they venture forth, again to stray. 
Until there comes an eager soul to hear, 
And then as in a choral dance do they 
Repeat harmonious numbers in the lay 
Sung by the poet to enchanted ear. 

And thus it is that one inspired thought 

Goes on its destined way around the earth; 
Its music some impassioned soul has caught, 
Has into melody its footfalls wrought; — 
Song, of immortal youth, has come to birth ! 



98 



DAY COMES WITH SONG 



D 



AY comes mth song, 

Soon as the morning breaks 
Over the crest of low, gray eastern hills, 

Its gentle footfall wakes 

The tuneful choir that makes 
Sweet melody of joyfulness that fills 
The woods around, that sends clear limpid rills 

Of softly flowing song 

With lulling lapse of murmuring stream green 
meadow's marge along. 

Day goes with song, 

When down the glowing west 
The sun goes to his chamber for the night, 

Leaving the world to rest, 

The swallow in her nest 
Pavilioned o'er with evening clouds all bright 
With gold and amber of day's fading light; — 

Then does the hour belong 

To simply artless cadenced close of veery's vesper 
song. 



[99 



SILENCE 

3hE comes before us oft, we know not whence, 

No footfalls of her coming do we hear, 
So softly will she leave us, going hence, 
No farewell utterance falUng on our ear, 
No word of vain regret nor word of cheer; 
No rustling of her dress 
Nor benison to bless 
The heart of Feeling, to relieve the sense 

Of that which in her presence most we fear, — 
The sense of loneliness. 

And this is Silence, — of all comrades best 

When we are with her in the world alone, 
When in the stillness of an hour of rest 
We hear a music hitherto unknown, 
A harmony of sentiment and tone 
That doth express the whole 
Entrancement of the soul 
When, with a consciousness of selfhood blest, 
It feels a tide of rapture all its own 
Into its bosom roll. 



[ loo] 



ABSENT-HEARTED 



I 



LOVE my Love; — far as his feet may go 

There shall my love outrun him on his way; 
Or let him loiter by the streamlet slow, 
Or let him linger where the violets grow, 

There shall my love beside him fondly stay; 
How can he — thus attended — fail to know 
That while I live, and while I love him so. 

My life is lonely, for my Heart's away 

With loving Thought to-day! 

My Love loves me, and that is all I care, 

To have his love that I may call my own; 
Let others have all that is bright and fair, 
Let others joy in love, — they cannot share 

That which I feel is felt for me alone ; 
How do I — thus attended — everywhere 
Find Life a gladsome thing of beauty rare, 

And all her paths with fragrant flowers strewn. 

Tree-shaded and grass-grown ! 



[ lOI 



HOSPITALITY OF THE HEART 

A HE early-rising sun of summer throws 
Upon the mountain's brow its golden light, 

It overspreads the field of winter snows 

With blushing of the rose, 

Lending a ruddy radiance to the white. 

In bringing up the glory of the day 
To give low eastern cloud its fringe of gold, 

The beams that round the mountain summits play 

That lavish gift display 

In tenderness of tint a thousand fold. 

We see the wealth of color in the tone 

Of light that has come through the falling rain, 

And so is beauty of the morning shown 

In radiant sunbeams thrown 

Back from the high snow-mantled peaks again. 

The joys of life, too, have their greatest zest 
Not in those things that are directly given; — 

The most delightful and most welcome guest 

That comes to human breast 

Is he who is by stress of weather driven. 



[102 ] 



PICTURED SONG 

A HE man who painted sang as well, 
So do the olden stories tell; 
He sang of beauty, sang of grace 
The while he limned the lady's face; 
He sang the valiant deed and brave 
Whene'er he wished the expression grave, 
But love inspired his song the while 
He painted that bewitching smile 
Which lingers yet through ages long 
And still rewards the artist's song. 

O could those lips round which there plays 
The sunshine of departed days, 
Could they repeat the tender strain. 
Those touching words of song again. 
How would our souls with music fill. 
Our hearts with noble passion thrill ! 
Then should we hand of artist bless, 
The artist's charming voice no less; — 
But no, — song on our earth delays 
Only in smile that song repays. 



103 



THE SINGER 



Wi 



HAT is the poet's aim? 
Some wounded heart to reach 
That he a truth may teach 
Of comfort to the same. 

What is the poet's thought? 
It is of noblest worth, 
Of virtue here on earth 

From heights celestial brought. 

What is the poet's dream? 
A vision of the Right 
Prevailing over Might 

And made the law supreme. 

What is the poet's prayer? 
That in another sphere 
What is the rarest here 

Be found most common there. 

What is the poet's faith? 
In some fond memory 
His simple song shall be 

Kept sacred after death. 

[ 104] 



SINGER AND HEARER 

X HE figure in the block of marble hidden 
From every eye except the artist's own 
Will, by the magic beck of Genius bidden, 
Step from the stone. 

And so the beauty in the rosebud's keeping 

Through mnter snows, away from mortal sight, 
Is ready at the touch of Summer, leaping 
Into the light. 

Beyond the chimes from village belfry ringing, 

Adown the silence of the evening air. 
We hear from wooded slope a bird song bringing 
The worship there. 

So in a verse melodiously flowing 

In lines composed of harmony complete. 
Are heard the pulses of a heart throb shoTving 
Music more sweet; — 

Showing how vast that Delian possession, 

How far beyond the inspired one's control, 
That it should find a still more full expression 
In other soul. 



105 



POWER OF SONG 



I 



T may be that some heart has felt, 

When it was very sore from wrong, 
Blest anodyne of sorrow dealt 

So sweetly, gratefully by song, 
And it has blessed the art divine 
That poured the balm of oil and wine 

Upon a spirit suffering long. 

It may be that some kindly word 
Joined to a soft, melodious strain, 

In time of grief and trouble heard, 
Has had full power to ease a pain; 

Then who shall say the singer's voice 

May not in its high art rejoice. 

Nor deem that it has sung in vain? 

O power of song to raise the soul 
When this in deep dejection lies, — 

As deep as was of Eve the dole 
When she went out from Paradise; 

What fadeless laurel wreaths belong 

To those who having gift of song 
Its sweet enchantment exercise! 



1 06 



SINGING AND TOILING 



I 



HAVE a life in common with the shy 
And wary creatures of the field and wood, 
A life withdra^\Ti from the World's curious eye, 
And by the indifferent little understood. 
My waking hours belong 
To artless song 
As that is warbled by the hedgerow bird, 
And in my slumber dreams 
The dear Muse seems 
To sing the sweetest songs were ever heard. 

I have a life in common with the throng 

Of busy toilers in the mart and field, 
With working men have made my muscles strong 
In garnering what the furrowed soil would yield. 

To me the evening hush 

And song of thrush 
Have often come as welcome call to rest; 

And yet I cannot say 

With yea or nay 
Whether is singing or is toiling best. 



[ 107 ] 



SADNESS OF SONG 

X HE bird sings o'er and o'er 
Its one unvarying score 
Repeated day by day 

And sung year after year, 
One softly warbled lay 

So musically clear 

That when its notes we hear 
Unto our Souls we say, 
''Come to the hills, away; 

Now is the Summer near!" 

Not so with what belongs 
To the music of our songs; 
Sometimes a cry of pain 

Comes from vibrating strings. 
Breaks the melodious strain, 

A note of discord rings; 

Unto our heart it brings. 
As south wind brings the rain, 
Full sense of effort vain 

Oft as the fond heart sings. 



io8 



SILENCE OF THE SOUL 



I 



LISTEN to the singing of a bird 
Not for the sweetness of the music heard 

Though charming be that song, 
But for deep silence that shall follow soon 
Made sweetly tender by a haunting tune 

To be remembered long. 

How will that simple lay come back to me 
And dwell at peace within my memory, 

Sweet as it was of yore; 
When as a boy I listened at the spring 
To hear what songs the happy wild birds sing 

Repeated o'er and o'er! 

So may it be with hours we idly spend 

In joys that seem with flight of time to end, 

Or pass from our control; 
It may be that these hours of idleness 
Are garnering some gracious thought to bless 

The silence of the soul. 



109] 



SING ON! 

&ING on, sweet Voice so fondly heard 

By mate of yours from neighboring tree; 
Sing on, glad Heart of happy bird. 
Your cheerful song to gladden me; 
Sing o'er and o'er 
That simple score 
Of love conveying all the lore. 

Sing on, dear Songster of the wood. 
That gives to melody your best; 
Sing on, to quiet little brood 

That chirp and flutter in the nest; 
Sing o'er and o'er 
That simple score 
Was sung to linnet brood of yore. 

Sing on, O Heart so full of joy 

To hear a strain remembered long, 
A note that charmed me when a boy, 
To which would I attune my song; 
Sing o'er and o'er 
That simple score 
As if 'twere never sung before. 



[no] 



IN SIMPLE PHRASE 



I 



N simple phrase 
Such as our fathers used in earlier days, 

The spinner at the door 

Sings o'er and o'er 
To hum of wheel her old familiar lays. 

Her songs beguile 

The weariness of spinner's toil the while 

Do shadows on the ground 

Creep slowly round, 
And noon's fierce ardor softens to a smile. 

Those ballads old 

Tell of the past all that is to be told; 

Stories of love and faith 

Outlasting death. 
Of deeds heroic — of adventures bold. 

Sweet homely lays, 

They win for her who sings no lasting bays. 

But move the one who hears 

E'en unto tears. 
His heart touched by a song in simple phrase. 



[Ill] 



MINISTRY OF SONG 

50NG sweetens toil, it makes all labor light, 
To gentle heart of Sorrow gladness brings, 

It cheers the hour of gloom with radiance bright 
As if the shadow were from angel wings; — 
The weaver at his loom in clear tone sings 

Some ballad rhythmic with the shuttle's flight, 
That o'er his web a mystic pattern flings 

Of deeds heroic told of vahant knight. 

To flowing verse and melody belong 

The nobler words and actions of the past, 

Defence of Right, the bold attack of Wrong 
As with a war-cry and with trumpet blast; — 
The minstrel's songs all memory outlast, 

Outlast the bastion and the bulwark strong; 
The history of war and conquest vast 

Is long outlived by simple peasant song. 

And so it is some tale of pity told 

In humble verse and set to simple strain, 

Some tale of Hecuba or Priam old. 
Of Hector dragged upon the Trojan plain, 
Or of some chivalric crusader slain. 

Of our compassion takes enduring hold. 
All efforts to forget the song are vain. 

Its cadences and rhythm our being mould. 

[112] 



DEAR HEART 



H. 



. W many springs that once were new, 
Were fresh with bloom, with promise fair, 

Before they to their ageing grew, 

Before they any fading knew, 
Or felt the shadow of a care; — 

How many were they ! — yet too few 

For me to spend along with you, 

Dear Heart, and learn your virtues rare. 

How many summers have grown old. 
Have sadly vanished from the earth. 

How many harvests ripened gold, 

How many winters with their cold 

Have built the fires upon the hearth! — 

How many are they! yet too few 

For me to spend along with you. 

Dear Heart, and come to know your worth. 

The many seasons we have known 
Each other's presence, being near. 

Have brought a blessing of their own. 

And now that they as birds are flown 
Still bides that blessing with us here, — 

That we in springs and summers new. 

Not less in cheerless winters, grew 
Each to the other yet more dear. 

[113] 



SONGS 

X HERE are songs for days that are bright, 

And songs for the days that are dull, 
Songs for the days that are filled with light 

And for days that of darkness are full ; 
There are songs for hearts that are young, 

For hearts that are weary and sore. 
And these are the songs that will still be sung 

When the makers of them are no more. 

There are songs for the friends who are here. 

For the friends who are far away, 
And songs that the hearts of the weary may cheer 

In the burden and heat of the day; 
There are songs of a tenderer chord 

That may tell of a holier love. 
And they need of our speech not a single word 

To be known by the angels above. 

There are songs for the great and the small, 

Those of high and of low degree. 
For the heroes of war who in battle fall 

And for those who are lost at sea; 
There are songs for our smiles and our tears. 

For our seasons of sadness and mirth. 
But what in the songs to the coming years 

Shall tell of their maker's worth? 

[114] 



TWIN SISTERS 

COMPANIONS close upon their lonely way 
Two graceful figures slowly move along, 

One richly clad and one in sober gray, — 
Silence unshod and her twin sister, Song. 

One looking downward as in thoughtful mood, 
The other looking to the heavens above ; 

One pondering matters feebly understood. 
The other singing joyously of love. 

There was no cloud nor shadow on the face 
Of either comrade as they journeyed on, 

But as they passed they left upon the place 
An air of loneUness where had they gone. 

One missed the music of the singer's voice 
That rang out to the morning loud and clear. 

Its full tones making heart of youth rejoice 
That so much melody of song was here; 

But more he missed the silence that had passed 
As runs a river's current deep and strong. 

For of its unheard harmonies at last 

Was woven to the soul most perfect song. 

[iiSl 



WINGS OF SONG 



Wi 



EAVING figures most intricate 

Over the background of the sky, 
Summer swallow and summer mate 

Up with the clouds together fly, 
Or over green meadows below, 
Unweariedly to and fro 
Swift as a thought they go 

Bright sunlight through 

On wings of blue. 

So do the thought and the vision appear 

Coming silently into view, 
Showing somewhat of graces here. 

Some of the beauty they have come through. 
How does that vision glow 
As after the rain does the bow, 
How brighter does beauty show 

When borne along 

On wings of song! 



[ii6] 



SONG OF LINUS 

Ml AR slope of upland shows a spacious field 

Now growing into gold with ripening corn, 
And beaming as a warrior's ready shield 

Full in the glorious light of early mom; 
We see at work the reapers bending low, 

Their crescent sickles flashing in the light, 
Behind them kevils lying in a row, 

The husbandman rejoicing in the sight. 

They sing — those laborers together sing 

A song by Linus made for men of yore, 
A song of gladness when 'tis sung in spring. 

Of sadness, sung when summer time is o'er; 
They sing the coming of a radiant boy. 

The ecstasy of childhood in his eyes. 
At his appearance here they sing what joy ! 

What grief and lamentation when he dies ! 

O song immortal in the heart of man, 

And still repeated in an echoing strain. 
Sweet song for men at reaping that once ran 

Along the border of a field of grain ! 
Sweet song of Linus' making by which he 

Through passing years has been remembered long, 
So that by sight of toiling reapers we 

Are yet reminded of that ancient song. 

[117] 



LESBIAN SONG 

X wo Lesbian maidens, toiling at the mill 

In the morning still, 

Before the day 
Comes over eastern hills full-robed in gray, 
Sing in soft measure of Pierian phrase 

Apollo's praise; 

In notes of joy 
They sing of Aphrodite and her boy; 
So do the Lesbian maids in music mask 

Laborious task 

To make it seem 
A festival they're keeping in a dream. 

For centuries the noise of Lesbian mill 

At morn is still; 

At temple shrine 
Apollo is no longer held divine; 
To Venus and her boy do men to-day 

Small homage pay; 

The Muses now 
Are seldom honored with a thought or vow; 
But yet that Lesbian song lives evermore 

As sung of yore, 

And hours so long 
Are yet made swifter by the wings of song. 

[ ii8 ] ^ 



HEART HUNGER 



N, 



OT with wine and not with bread 
Heart of man is cheered and fed, — 

Not with common fare, 
Something more than Hfe can give 
Needs the human heart to live 

And its burdens bear. 

Heart of childhood, heart of youth 
Needs the sturdy strength of truth 

Manhood may attain; 
In its doubts and in its fears 
Needs companionship of years. 

Counsel wisely sane. 

So the weary heart of age 
Needs upon its pilgrimage 

All the mirth and joy 
It remembers to have had 
When the old man was a lad, 

Mischief-loving boy. 

All life's way of loneliness. 
Needing more or needing less, 

Other wants above; 
In its smiling and its tears 
Gloom that saddens, light that cheers, 
Heart of man wants love. 

[119] 



SING CARE AWAY 

OING Care away, say her "Good-bye!" 

Give her " God-speed with gladness!'* 
Too long she may not linger nigh 

With gloomy thought of sadness ! 
Sing to her measures soft and low 
To lead her whither streamlets flow, 
That she, beguiled by music so, 
May hasten downward to the shore, 

Herself and comrades hurried. 
And, taking ship, sail quickly o'er 

To those who will not be worried. 

IBid Care begone, nor let her stay 

With all her crew annoying. 
So sing as to charm Care away, 

Your sweetest notes employing; 
Sing what is lively, what is gay. 
What lightens toil, what heightens play, 
The joy of living day by day; — 
Sing what will hasten Trouble's flight, 

His heavy burdens winging. 
What will as well give you delight 

The while that you are singing. 



I20 



ABODE OF SONG 

X^ ROM mountain side bursts forth the impatient 
spring, 
It leaps the broken ledges at a bound, 
And on their way the happy waters sing 
A song of gladness to the rocks around; 
They lead my fancy to the unmeasured sea 
Where they will be 
With that immensity of waste at home, 

Where round the mainland with its rock-bound 

shore 
Forevermore 
Will they be fretting in a fringe of foam. 

They lead my fancy by a sunlit way 

Up to the clouds that drift across the sky, 
That bring across the fields the shadows gray 
And to the mountain springs their fresh supply, 

'Tis thus the singing streams forever go 

With steady flow 
In eager haste to meet the rising tide, 

But here alone with Echo and with me 

For company 
The happy songs choose ever to abide. 



[I2l] 



HEART'S COINAGE 

JL HE years are full of pleasure, 
Joy is the heart's best treasure 

Kept in its coffer strong, 
As is the miser's money, 
The store of hoarded honey 

Kept through the seasons long; 
But were the heart less wary. 
Were of its wealth less chary. 

This were given forth in song. 

The metals of our mining 
Have need of a refining 

And need of an alloy 
To help them in the bearing 
Of service hard and wearing 

For commerce to employ; 
But all the merry ringing 
Of the heart's exultant singing 

Is that of native joy. 



[ 122 ] 



A SONG 

l\ song of words but few 

Repeated o'er and o'er, 
To you, dear Heart, to you 

So often sung before! 
The music can have nothing new. 
But, having grace, may wander through 
Your heart with memories for a clue 

To heart of hearts once more. 

A song of words but few 

In which would Love complain, 
To you, dear Heart, to you 

So often sung in vain ! 
To tell of faithfulness as true 
As heart of mortal ever knew. 
Of force as strong as that which drew 
The tide across the main. 

A song of words but few 

Sung in a minor strain. 
To you, dear Heart, to you 

Sung o'er and o'er again! 
To win your pitying sight to view 
The latest flower in Eden grew. 
Was watered by Contrition's dew, 

Of Sorrow's tears the rain. 
[ 123] 



FROM THE HEIGHTS 

r ROM the hills, the silent hills, 
Come the merrily laughing rills 

Bounding along 

With mirth and song 
That wakens the echoes from their sleep and with 
gladness the valley fills. 

Down from the hills they bring 
That song of triumph they sing 

When over the edge 

Of the broken ledge 
They leap in a frenzy of mad delight and the spray 
to the sunshine fling. 

Down to the meadows below 
They bring the coolness of snow, 

A refreshing draught 

That is eagerly quaffed 
By the noontide-resting fleurs de lys among which 
the streamlets flow. 

So into our lives are brought 
From the upper ranges of thought 

Full harmony 

Of minstrelsy 
By the magic charm of whose cheerfulness our quiet 
of soul is wrought. 

[ 124] 



LAND OF SONG 



Bi 



•ENEATH the smiling of Arcadian skies 
That make of all the year a summer long, 
In restful quietude of Nature lies 
The happy Land of Song. 

Amid the peacefulness of growing things 
That help to fill with joy the passing days, 

There sits the Muse of Melody and sings 
Of Love and Song the praise. 

The wings of fancy fan soft ambient air 

By which fair flowers of thought are gently 
wooed, 

And faithful Memory indulges there 
A meditative mood. 

The Past and Present greeting pleasantly 
Along a common shore together run 

As bits of wreckage meeting on the sea 
Thenceforth are only one. 

Around these shores the sea of passion flows 
In tidal currents running swift and strong. 

Its hoarser accents blending yet with those 
From happy Land of Song. 

[125] 



HEARD SILENCES 



W] 



E do not note the ticking of the clock 

That through the years has marked the steps 
of Time, 
But let it stop, our ears receive a shock — 

The silences to startling loudness climb; 
So 'tis when in the singing of a choir 

At intervals does measured cadence fall, 
Then does responsive feehng mount the higher, 

Unwhispered music ruling over all, 
Then do we realize that Heaven is nigher 

From having heard its clear unspoken call. 

There is that lingers on the mortal sense, 

As faint impression of an undertone, 
A still small voice that ever follows whence 

At birth we came an unmarked way alone; 
A voice we hear the same however far 

On life's uncharted ocean waste we roam; 
Heard clearest when there is no sound to mar 

Sweet harmonies of accents as they come, 
And evermore unto our souls they are 

A cordial bidding of our spirits home. 



126] 



A LITTLE SONG 

A LITTLE song 

Heard from the hedge along 

The roadside where our way 
Winds up the hill, 
With lapsing trill 

Cheers the hot, dusty day; — 
That singing low 
Entrances so 

It charms all sense of weariness away. 

A word of cheer 

Heard from a comrade near 

Amid the din of strife, 
Of spear and shield 
On battle-field 

With toil and danger rife; — 
That word may mean 
More than we glean 

From all the discipline of Fate and Life. 



[127] 



HEART OF SONG 



D< 



'OWN the noisy, crowded street 
Comes the voice of young girl singing 

Some old pastoral low and sweet 
From Sicilian hill-slopes bringing 

Breath of music that was sung 

In the soft Italian tongue 

When Proserpine was young, 

Fadeless flowers on Enna springing. 

Few the passers-by that care 

For the singing of the maiden, 
Few of all this crowd that share 

Weight with which her heart is laden ; 
She, an alien, singing here 
In a voice that's ringing clear, — 
Hardly she keeps back the tear; — 
Lonely soul, true-hearted maiden! 

Charm pathetic of her song 
Lies not in the words are spoken, 

Notes of music quavering long 
Are of grief and pain the token; 

Who along the street will say 

As he goes upon his way, 

"Heart of Song is sad to-day 
Because the singer's heart is broken." 

[128] 



MYSTERY 



Wi 



HO cannot find 

Within the realm of thought 
Some fit employment of his mind 

On lessons Life has taught, 

Would he be happier, brought 
Whence he might view the whole 
Created universe from pole to pole, 

Or any happier be 

Knowing the secrets of Eternity? 

Heaven has revealed 

So much as we need know. 
And wisely from us has concealed 

What is the better so ; 

The years will quickly go 
And then it will appear 
For what good purpose we have sojourned here, 

And we at last shall see 

Our faith was grounded fast in mystery. 



129 



HEART SILENCE 



W] 



HEN lips are mute, when all the breath is 
spent, 
When words are wanting, tears begin to start, 
Then are unspoken feelings eloquent. 

Then are we moved by silence of the heart. 

It may be but a look now turned away, 
It may be but the pressure of a hand. 

And yet this tells us more than words can say, 
More than another heart can understand. 

Heart silence calls to us from out the past 
In tones of deepest wretchedness and woe, 

The anguish of the Grecian chief will last 
Far as the immortal tale of Troy may go. 

As Ariadne watched the lessening sail 
That from her side her faithless husband bore, 

There still is seen a ship to fade and fail 

Nor yet quite vanish from the Naxian shore. 

Beyond all limits that our thoughts embrace 
That sympathetic silence softly steals 

Wherever there is given the human race 
A mind that ponders and a heart that feels. 

[ 130 1 



PLAINSONG 

J\T peep o' day 

The robin's voice I hear 
Sing blithely gay 

The plainsong of the year, 

And ringing clear 
Join in song-sparrow's short melodious lay. 

O morning light 

That comes as joy to me, 
So warm and bright 

And beautiful to see! 

How happy we — 
Birds and myself — to say good-bye to night! 

How happy we, 

Each for the other's sake! 
The birds for me 

The utmost pains will take. 

And I will make 
In praise of them my sweetest melody. 



[131] 



EXCELLENCE OF SONG 



I 



T is for gladness that we sing, 

For sorrow that we weep, 
The joys that in our bosom spring — 

Our lips — they cannot keep; 
No more can we command our eyes 
That they hold back the tears that rise. 
The overflow of grief that lies 

Within our being deep. 

We can but weep when we are sad. 

When overcome by grief, 
Then let us sing when we are glad 

Although our song be brief; 
It is in nature that we show 
Our keen enjoyment as our woe. 
And give to daily living so 

Its shading and relief. 

Life's happy hours fly on apace, 

Her sad ones linger long; 
We meet the glad with shining face. 

To brave the sad are strong; 
Then while we live these pleasant days, 
And while we go these pleasant ways, 
Let all our singing be to praise 

The excellence of song. 

[132] 



LOVE'S WORLD 

A-/OVE has a world its own 
Outside all other spheres 
In time and space; 
Wherever Love is known, 
There Joy in Life appears 
With sovereign grace. 

Love has no limits set 

More than the winds that sweep 
O'er land and sea; 
It runs still farther yet 
Over that vaster deep, 
Eternity; 

Will evermore abide 

With living and with dead 
By Heaven-given right; 
As it was given to guide 
Creative Voice that said, 
''Let there be light!" 



1^33 



TWILIGHT SONG 



W] 



ITH no pretence of art, 
No thought with other singer to compete, 
The bird sings from his heart 
A song of love and melody complete; 
There are the trills 
Of running rills, 
The full-toned symphonies 
Of winds among the trees; — 
To him who listens, standing just apart. 
The cadence of that song is very sweet. 

Most sweet that song to hear 

When day is weary of the hours of light, 
When shades are drawing near 

And vanishes the tired world from sight; 
The starry host 
Are at their post 

A constant guard to keep 

While birds and mortals sleep. 
And one sweet heart that's to the singer dear 

Shall find in that low strain a fond " Good-night." 



134] 



THOUGHT AND FEELING 

Jr AR, far away 
Into an unknown land 
With Fancy hand in hand 

Will Thought unthinking stray; 
There would it tarry day and night 
So is it lost in wonder and delight. 

But Feeling stays 
About the old hearthstone 
With those were earliest known 

Playmates of childhood days; 
She calls on Memory to bring 
The smile of childish friendship while I sing. 

So is it Song 
To later seasons gives 
The best of all that Uves 

Through life however long, 
And lengthens out the closing years 
Until a promise of the spring appears. 



135 



OLD SONGS 

A HE fashion of the world may change, 

And life be cast in other mould, 
But never will those airs grow strange 

To which were sung the songs of old; 

They hymned the praise of warrior bold 
Who perils oft and Death defied, 

In strains of tender feeling told 
Youth's maiden love that never died. 

Far off may seem the death of kings 

In battle slain on bloody field. 
But still in minstrel song there rings 

The steely clang of sword and shield; 

In notes triumphant are revealed 
Undying passions of the heart. 

We seem ourselves the brand to wield 
And in the conflict take our part. 

Far softer strains than these are heard 

Come floating down the flood of years, 
Wherein with tenderness of word 

Is chiming low the fall of tears. 

In simple melody appears 
The joy, the sorrow of the earth; — 

What flame of fond affection cheers 
The cottager's domestic hearth! 

[136] 



HEART OF HUMANITY 



B] 



►E it heart of man or woman, 

Heart of strength, or heart of child, 
''Every human heart is human" 

In the town or in the wild; 
Feels the same insatiate yearning 

For compassion and for love. 
In its hours of trouble turning 

To the pitying Heart above. 

Through world shadows dimly seeing. 

Blindly groping e'en by day. 
Conscious that a higher Being 

Leads along a destined way; 
In the gloom of darkest hour 

Stranger in an unknown land. 
Feels the heart a staying power. 

Touch of God's almighty hand. 

As that feebleness grows greater 

With the years and what they bring 
So to hand of its Creator 

Closer does the creature cling; 
Certain that through every danger, 

Through the storm and through the night, 
It will lead the weary stranger 

Into rest and into light. 

[137] 



SILENCE AND SONG 

All of this happy world around 
Does Morning go with her torch alight, 

And where have gathered the shades profound 
In the long and lonely hours of night, 

There is the day with splendor crowned, 
And the timid phantoms are put to flight. 

As the Morning comes with a smiling grace 
And Night in the shadow has lingered long, 

It is easy in one the desire to trace 
In the other to see the purpose strong 

To gain and to hold that charmed space, 
The meeting-place of Silence and Song. 

Night stands with her breathing all a-hush, 

On her dewy Hp is her finger laid. 
She would stay the brook in its downward rush, 

If only the waters could be stayed. 
To hear the matin song of the thrush. 

To hear the greetings of Morning made. 

And at eventide when the day is done, 
When daylight is fading adown the west, 

When the shadows at draping the hills have begun, 
Have hushed to slumber the brood in the nest, 

Then Silence and Song together as one 

Stand rapt, — twin forms of one soul possessed. 

[138] 



SONG OF SORROW 



Wi 



HEN too heavy for the morrow 
Is foreboding in my breast, 
Then I give the note of sorrow 
To a song and it has rest. 

Then sinks pain as sink the billows 
When the angry storm is past, 

And the heart its trouble pillows 
On the peace of God at last. 

In the soul's high chantry never 
May that music cease to ring, 

Nearer to the Eternal ever 
May it the sad spirit bring; 

Leading by the silent river 

Of forgetfulness along 
To the unforgetting Giver 

Of the passion and the song; 

And I would my moan of sadness 
Should become a hymn of praise 

Chiming with the notes of gladness 
Which untroubled spirits raise. 

[139I 



THE LOST SONG 

± HE notes escape me, I have lost the score 

Of song that once I heard 
In ecstasy of Ufe, sung o'er and o'er 

By an unconscious bird; — 
Unconscious of the sweetness of his voice, 
And only glad he could that way rejoice. 

I cannot now recall that simple song 

I heard when I was young, 
But still my heart responds in pulses strong 

To tone in which 'twas sung; 
The thought of what I felt is with me still. 
It moves my soul with just as warm a thrill. 

It is not wholly lost, — that woodland song 
That charmed my childish ears, 

Its music has been with me through the long. 
Long flow of lapsing years; — 

Perchance in my own song that song may still 

Be heard as echo from a distant hill. 



140] 



IN MEMORY 



D 



EAR Heart of the many years that have fled 
As an evening and morning since we were wed, 

Were we one in the far-off, bygone years. 

Or were we apart in separate spheres? 
Ah, could we that mystery know 

Then were it easy to say 
Whether our Uves were happy so 

And we were content to stay. 
Or whether a mutual longing drew 

Our feet to this common path of life. 
And I became chosen husband to you 

And you were my chosen wife. 

Dear Heart of the years since first we met 
While the pathway of life with dew was wet, 

How has the love that with us has gone 

Kept the wayside fresh and the blossoming on! 
There have been places, indeed, 

That were steep for a tiresome length. 
But the handclasp, always closer in need. 

Has been of how wonderful strength ! — 
And now when we look to what lies ahead 

Or backward look to what has been passed, 
We see the whole way with blessings spread, — 

We pray it be so to the last. 

[141] 



SONG OF LOVE 

X O me the thought of childhood brings 
Some idle dream remembered long; 
This Fancy furnishes with wings, 

With pinions wide of sweep and strong, 
Soft downy wings of song. 

As brood of full-fledged swallows leaves 
At early morn its homelike nest 

And comes back to the cottage eaves 

From north and south, from east and west, 
At evening to their rest; 

As went the dove from friendly hand 

Out over an unbounded sea. 
And, wearied with vain search for land, 

Came to the window wearily. 

My songs return to me. 

They all come back but one alone 

Of those I counted at the start, 
The song of love has farthest flown. 

Long since has learned to lodge apart. 

Sing in another heart. 



[ 142] 



NATURE'S VOICES 

JL HOUGH mortal lips were mute, 

And dumb the human voice, 
Though silent strings of harp and lute 

Yet would our world rejoice; 
A thousand voices on the wing, 

On bended reed and orchard bough, 
Would still of love and pleasure sing 

As they are singing now. 

Earth needs not any skill 

Nor art that we possess 
Wide spaces of her lands to fill 

With song's delightsomeness, — 
Dark pines forevermore repeat 

Their solemn symphony so grand, 
And ocean waves with rhythmic beat 

Fall on responsive sand. 

It may be that the trees, 

The grasses and the flowers 
Grow to entrancing melodies 

For finer ears than ours, 
That to all motion everywhere 

Harmonious numbers must belong. 
And every sentient being share 

Sweet ministry of Song. 

[143] 



THE SINGER'S TASK 

A HE singer has his task 
Assigned him at his birth, 
'Tis not for him to ask 

Aught different on earth 
But just to try and make his song of all-surpassing 
worth. 

The singer has his aim 

That's never lost to sight, 
His object is the same 

As eagle's in its flight; — 
It is that he some time may reach of song the 
greatest height. 

The singer has reward 

For all that he may try, 
Wee bit white-daisied sward 

On which, when tired, to lie. 
And, when his last is sung, 'twill^bloom between 
him and the sky. 



[144] 



SHADOWS 

A HE shadows came and went 

Over dark wooded hills, 
Across far-sloping fields of bent 

And meadow-loving rills ; 
How swift were they in flight, 

How quickly were they gone; — 
A glorious pageant to the sight, 

A memory anon ! 

That was when life was young. 

Just starting on its course, 
Then clouds close round the mountain clung 

Till torn away by force; 
How quickly did they fly 

Woods, fields and waters o'er! 
The shadows passed and left the sky 

As it had been before. 

But now the shadows stay. 

They close the scene around. 
Shut out the pleasant light of day 

In mystery profound; 
That veil will never lift 

Along the horizon line 
Nor will it ever show a rift 

Through which the sun may shine. 

[i4Sl 



SONGS AND SINGER 

J7 ROM the cloudlands far astray, 

Through the pine-tops going, 
With the poplar leaves at play, 

Summer winds are blowing; 
Of the passing winds we know 

From the leaves' revealing 
In a music soft and low 

Their mysteries of feeling. 

Winds the slowly eddying stream 

Through the grassy meadow. 
Silently as in a dream 

Comes and goes a shadow; 
To the reeds the eddies bring 

Audibly a shiver, 
Low the flaggy sedges sing 

The longing of the river. 

Thus it is that every breeze. 

Every stream that passes. 
Wakes the music of the trees, 

Voice of tender grasses; 
And thus we find it, you and I, 

With the songs and singer, — 
He, the singer, passeth by. 

The songs, the songs, — they linger. 
[146] 



ALL ENDS IN SONG 

J\LL ends in song, 
Whether it be of pain 

Or of woe the stifled moan, 
A sad lament for the slain 
Or of the wounded a groan; 
Be it weak or strong, 
Be it short or long, 
At last must the mournful strain 

Fall to an undertone. 
And out of the notes again 
As a flower newly blown 
Arise a song. 

All ends in song, 
Whether it be for the right 

Is the shout of victory. 
For the glory of the light 
The people's praise may be. 
Or it be the wTong 
Upheld by the throng. 
Soon must that tumult cease, 

The din of faction end. 
And the low sweet notes of peace 
Harmoniously blend 
Into a song. 

[147] 



AFTER THE SONG 



Oi 



'NLY a low sweet note 

After the song is done, 
A call from the sparrow's throat, 

Made to her little one; 
Only a cloud afloat 

Between me and the sun. 
And a cloud shadow remote 

Over the fields to run. 

All that is left to me 

Of the glory of the year, 
Of the tender sympathy 

With Summer's smile and tear, 
Is the glorious memory 

Remaining to me dear 
Of what I was glad to see 

And of what I was glad to hear. 

Now that the song is done, 

Now that the pageant is past, 
There's a shadow in the sun 

On the way before us cast; 
Now the call to the Uttle one 

Is heard in a silence vast; 
The course of life is run. 

It is rest and slumber at last. 

[148] 



THE LYRE UNSTRUNG 

3WEET are the songs that are as yet unsung, 

That are composed without or note or word, 
Whose rhythm has never flowed from mortal tongue 

Nor has it yet by mortal ear been heard; 
Sweet are the songs that blend the harmonies 

Of human life with Nature's gentle course 
As this runs on through long eternities 

To end remote as is its unknown source. 

Sweet are the songs that linger long behind. 

That wait a happier time to come to birth, 
That sometimes visiting the poet's mind 

Help him interpret voices of the earth; 
With strain ecstatic and with magic word. 

Will come at times an even softer note 
By which the souls of listeners are stirred, — 

It comes as from the heart, not from the throat. 

As when one hears the warbHng of a bird 

So high aloft the songster is not seen 
One gathers easily from what is heard 

The rapture of delight those warblings mean; 
So will there come unto the thoughts of men 

Reverberations from what has been sung, 
These will they hear with deeper rapture when 

The voice is silent and the lyre unstrung. 

[ 149] 



AT THE END 

jlFTER a long, rough road is passed, 
The weary pilgrim comes at last 
Unto his journey's end, and there 

He finds all toil and trouble cease, 
A room prepared for him with care, — 

The name of that is peace. 

Its windows look out towards the morn, 
To where the morrow will be born; 
He turns his face that way, and keeps 

A patient hope within his breast; 
And as a cradled infant sleeps 

The pilgrim takes his rest. 

The hours of that last night will run. 
The stars will go out one by one, 
The sun above the hills will rise 

Day break the eastern ridge along. 
And he, regaining Paradise, 

Will waken with a song. 



ISO 



THE LAST GOOD-BYE 



G< 



'OOD-BYE, dear Heart, for one short season 

only, 
The summer of our year; 
To me, when I am far away and lonely. 
How long must it appear ! 

At night my soul in dreams will be returning 

Along the lengthening way. 
And altar-fires of my heart keep burning. 

Rekindled day by day. 

Good-bye; — again must farewell word be spoken, 

Our hands must clasp anew. 
And lips be pressed to waiting lips in token 

The heart is always true. 

Now must it be for Memory to treasure 

Through weary hours and long 
The last fond word until in cadenced measure 

'Tis w^oven into song. 

Good-bye, — the word by us is often needed 

Long as we sojourn here; 
Where it with greetings glad is superseded 

Will be most blessed sphere. 

[iSi] 



APOLOGY 

/jLS artist soul, when artist hand has failed 
Some fleeting dream of beauty to express, 

Will feel aggrieved to see at length unveiled 
More rapturous vision yet of loveliness. 

Will feel the utter helplessness of Art — 
Handmaiden she in service of his kind — 

How slight her skill, her power to impart 

To others' thought the thought that holds his 
mind; 

As idle player, piping at his ease 

Some simple ditty of a country love, 
Will find that theme familiar fail to please 

When sound the winds through laurel boughs 
above. 

Will find his heart respond to loftier strain. 
To paeans chanted after victory won, 

To hymns in honor of heroic slain 

Whose praises through the lengthening ages run; 

So must the poet, in his vain despair. 

Grieve that his art can serve his thought but ill, 
That let him touch the keys with utmost care 

Sounds to his soul diviner music still. 

[152] 



FOR SORRY HEART 

" For sorry herte I may not tellen more." 

Chaucer 



B 



►ECAUSE my heart is sore 
My lips may tell no more 

What they have told; 
The brands are burning lower, 
Live shadows creep the floor, 

The room grows cold. 

We have been busy long 
In ballad and in song 

With stories old; 
Stories that tell of wrong, 
Oppressions of the strong, 
Adventures bold. 

Now will we say "Good-night," 
Take each his taper light; — 

The tale is told; 
We turn to visions bright 
Which to the inner sight 

Do dreams unfold. 



153 



HAVE THOU GOOD-NIGHT! 



H 



AVE thou good-night! the fading light 
Goes with the setting of the sun, 
The stars come forward one by one 
To hold their watch; — have thou good-night! 

Have thou good-night! the heron's flight 
Sinks low adown the western sky 
Into the dim obscurity 

Of evening dusk; — have thou good-night! 

Have thou good-night! beyond the sight 
Of mortal eye the heavens brood 
Above a vast infinitude 

Of other worlds; — have thou good-night! 

Have thou good-night ! the day is bright 
Where it has gone into the west 
To give our weary world its rest, — 

'Twill come again; — have thou good-night! 

Have thou good-night! let dreams delight 
With their enchanting visions brought 
To greet the early-waking thought 

Of him who prays, "Have thou good-night!" 



154 



THE LAST GOOD-NIGHT 



W. 



ITH lighted lamp held in her ready hand, 
One foot now resting on the upper stair, 

Does our retiring friend yet lingering stand 

. As if delayed by haunting memories there ; 
Again she slowly turns with thoughtful air 

Her features half in shadow, half in light, 
And while her lips a smile of sweetness wear. 

She bids her fellow-guests a fond "Good-night." 

We who with her have formed a circle here 

Before the fire of life, now burning low. 
We draw our chairs together yet more near 

And watch the embers in their dying glow; 

The burning brands that waste to ashes so 
From time to time flash into blazing bright 

As each guest, rising up, prepares to go 
And from the upper stair sends back "Good-night." 

To good-night wishes from withdrawing guest 

"Have thou good-night," our own hearts make 
reply, 
Although they are with heavy thoughts oppressed, 

And though the voice be burdened with a sigh; 

Though swelling tears may overflow the eye 
And words sink down to broken sobs of sorrow. 

The sobs will hush again, the tears will dry 
When we are greeted with a glad "Good-morrow." 

[iSS] 



FINIS 

-OEAR up, dear Heart of mine, sore burdened 
with sorrow ! — 

Though dreary may be the day. 

Though weary may be the way 
It shall lead thee at length into a blissful morrow. 

Elated the heart should be that 'tis mounting 
higher; — 
Though the feet of the wayfarer go 
On their pilgrimage painfully slow 
Yet shall the heart at last attain to the heart's 
desire. 

What though a mountain may rise rugged and 
broken ! — 
Look higher yet — to the skies. 
Watch the course of the stars as they rise; — 
The stars that are of Heaven's own steadfastness 
the token. 

As higher and higher we mount into an air that is 
clearer. 
The more of our road traveled o'er 
The less of it's lying before, 
And day by day do our peace and our rest draw 
nearer. 

[156] 



So do we read of our life the eventful story, 

Turning the leaves one by one, 

And, the simple chapters all done, 
Finding "Finis" printed in gold 'neath a crown of 
glory. 



FINIS OPUS CORONAT 



157] 



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